


All Of Our Ghosts And Secrets

by Flantastic



Series: Devotion [5]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Permanent Injury, Physical Disability, Sickfic, Wheelchairs, disabled AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-10-20 03:07:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10653642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flantastic/pseuds/Flantastic
Summary: Following on from the events of Dress Up In Dreams, James and Q's relationship is struggling but a terrible injury turns out to be a blessing in disguise as they are thrust into a series of life or death events.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the long-awaited next instalment in my Devotion series. Thank you so much to everyone who's encouraged me to continue with this, I think this incarnation of James and Q are my favourites to write.
> 
> The fic is largely complete (barring a bit of tweaking) and I will be aiming to update on a weekly basis...

_“All of the words that we damn never speak_

_All of our ghosts and secrets do keep_

_Gather them all we'll bury them deep”_

\-          ‘Free Me’ by Foo Fighters

 

 

The last six months had been difficult.

As James made his way down to Q Branch to collect his husband, he tried not to dwell on the low moments that he and Q had been through since they were both kidnapped.  Ever since that dreadful day back in September, things hadn’t been quite the same between them.  Their previously unshakable relationship had wavered with the inevitable fallout from those events.  Q’s confidence and self-assurance had been damaged and Bond’s protective streak had developed into near-hysterical proportions.  The combination of those two things had resulted in arguments and more than a few tears.  The two of them were both determined though that they would work through their issues and they spent as much time apologising and making love as they did fighting.  Take that night.  It was their sixth wedding anniversary and despite everything that had been going on and all the tension between them, James was determined to take Q out and treat him like a prince.

He arrived at Q Branch to find Q deep in conversation with Miss Moneypenny.  They were going over a fully-equipped briefcase.

“Going out in the field again Eve?  Do I need to take precautions?  Find a bunker somewhere?” He asked.

She levelled the gun in her hand at his head and squinted as if taking aim.

“That depends,” She deadpanned, “How fast can you move these days?”

Q gave one of his ‘please-pay-attention’ sighs and she turned back to him.

“This is brilliant Q.  Tanner’s already sorted out the paperwork so I can get it all through customs.”

“Are you taking Bill on holiday?  It’s about time.  He works too hard.” James asked, perching a buttock on the side of the workbench they were using.  She grinned as she snapped the case shut.

“No such luck.  M is attending a conference in Washington.  I’m going to assist him and provide him with security.  We’re leaving on a private jet tomorrow morning.  I hear you two lovebirds are going to out dinner tonight.  I do hope you’re intending on going somewhere nice and spoiling Q something rotten.”  James smiled.

“I certainly am.”  He looked at Q.  “That’s if you’d still like to darling.”

Q had been full of cold for the past couple of days and he still looked a little peaky.  He smiled though.

“When have I ever passed up the opportunity to be spoiled by you?”  He asked.  “You do it so well.”  James leaned over and kissed him but Q batted him away after a second, smiling. “One, I’ve told you a thousand times; not at work.  And two, if you catch this lurgy off me I’ll never hear the end of it!”  James grinned as Q started to busy himself packing away his tools into a tool roll.

“Totally worth it.”

“So where are you off to?”  Eve asked.

“I’ve got us a table at Pierre’s Room in Kensington.”

“You haven’t!”  Eve exclaimed.  “Bloody hell James.  How did you swing that?  That place has a waiting list about three years long!”  James chuckled.

“I couldn’t possibly divulge my secrets.”

“I’m just going to grab my coat darling.” Q piped up.

“Right, that’s my cue to leave.  I’ll see you two crazy cats when I get back.”  With that Eve picked up the case and left the branch.  Q wheeled himself through to his private office and James wandered in after him.  He watched as Q tossed his tool roll onto his workbench and went to his desk to pick up his laptop.  As James watched he sneezed and pulled a tissue out of his pocket.  He tiredly blew and then wiped his nose.

“We really don’t have to if you don’t feel up to it.” James said quietly, taking in the dark patches under Q’s eyes.  Q smiled.

“I feel knackered but I don’t want to miss our night out.” He looked at James with affection. “I’ve been looking forward to it so much.”

James smiled and then frowned as he saw the way Q grimaced as he leaned over to put his laptop into the bag on the floor next to his wheelchair.

“How’s your back feeling?”

“Crap.” Was the terse reply.  James fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

Ever since the assault he’d received at the hands of his kidnappers, Q had been having more and more problems with his lower back.  It had originally been damaged in the accident he’d had as a teenager and it had always given him some pain but recently it had been getting steadily worse.  James had been trying to get him to see someone about it but Q stubbornly refused, complaining he was too busy.  He bit back the urge to insist again as he knew it would most likely start another fight so instead he said;

“Have you taken some painkillers?”

Q nodded as he put on his coat.

“Yes Daddy.”  He retorted irritably.  Then he paused and sighed.  “Please don’t fuss me James.  I’ll be alright.”

Famous last words.

James had only turned his head for a moment, looking at the calendar on the wall beside him, when he heard Q sneeze again… followed by a gasp of pain.  He looked back and Q was leaning over the side of his wheelchair, his hand tangled in the strap of his laptop bag.

“Oh God.”

Q’s words were quiet and breathless.

“Tom?”

Already pale, Q suddenly looked as if all the blood had drained from his face.

“James…”

He went over to him.

“What’s the matter?  What’s happened?”

“Oh God.” Q gasped.  “Oh God. Oh fuck!”

James dropped to his knees in front of Q and looked around him.  Other than the unusual angle Q was frozen in, he couldn’t see what had happened.  He reached out to him.  Q flinched and then whimpered.

“Don’t move me!  Oh God fuck, please don’t move me!”

“I won’t darling, I promise.”  James said with a calm he wasn’t really feeling.  “What happened?”

“I sneezed.  I just fucking sneezed.”  He started to tremble violently and moaned.  “I… oh fuck… my back… my fucking back!”

James reached out again, suddenly understanding.  Q had been twisting, reaching for his heavy laptop bag when he’d sneezed.  The sudden spasm must have put something out.  He tried to slip a hand under Q’s armpit to sit him up, thinking it might help if he wasn’t so skewed but Q cried out in pain.  James immediately stopped what he was doing.  He pressed his other hand into Q’s side and held him steady.

“I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  I’ve got you.  I’m not going to move you.”

Q gasped, his free hand scrabbling to grasp at the sleeve of James’s suit jacket.  He started to moan.

“I’m going to be sick…”

“Shhh.  I’ve got you baby boy.  I’ve got you.”  James didn’t think he was really helping at all but he tried to soothe him.  The last thing Q needed was to start retching.  He was just wondering if he could let go of him long enough to reach for his phone when there was a voice from the doorway.

“Sir?”

It was R and James didn’t think he’d ever been so happy to hear someone speak.  Without turning he said;

“R. Call Medical.  We need a doctor.  Tell them to bring a gurney with them.”

“Is Q OK?”

“Just call Medical!” James snapped.

She immediately closed the door behind her and went to the phone on Q’s desk.  James turned his attention back to his husband as she began to speak in a low urgent voice.  He looked grey now and a sheen of sweat covered his forehead.

“Hold on sweetheart.  It won’t be long now.  Doctor’s coming.”

“Don’t… let them see me… my staff…”

James nodded.

“R’s already shut the door.” He soothed.

At that moment R crouched down on the other side of the wheelchair.

“Can I do anything else to help Sir?”  She asked James quietly.

“Put on the brake on your side of the wheelchair and then come around to this side.”

She quickly did as she was asked and then came to James’s side.

“His hand.  Can you unloop it from the strap please?”

Q’s wrist was still caught up and she quickly freed it.  She moved the bag away enabling James to shuffle in closer.  Q whined at the slight movement.

“Here.  It’s OK.  Lean on me darling.”  James knelt up and carefully took Q’s glasses off his face.  He leant in so that Q could rest his head on his chest, taking care not to shift him.  Now they were close James could feel the way he was shaking.  “Where exactly does it hurt baby boy?”  Q closed his eyes and swallowed thickly.

“My back… small of my back… feels wrong…”

James carefully rested his head on Q’s.

“It’ll be alright.  It’ll be something simple.  You’ll be as right as rain in no time.”

“You’re a fucking liar.” Q mumbled, making James huff out a dry laugh.

“Optimist darling.  The word you’re looking for is optimist.”

R reappeared at James’s elbow with a plastic cup of water which she offered to him.  He gratefully took it off her.

“I’ll go and see if I can’t scare the staff back to work.  If I know them they’ll be hovering outside.”

James thanked her as she left.  He kissed Q’s hair when he moaned again and then pulled back ever so slightly, raising the cup to Q’s lips.

“Take a sip sweetheart.  It’ll help with the nausea.”  Q did as he was told and then rested his forehead on James’s chest again.  “It won’t be long now.  Try to hold on for me.”

“It hurts so fucking much…”

“I know baby.”

 

~00Q~

 

Q clung onto James and battled the rising waves of nausea.  Had he ever been in this much pain before?  He wasn’t sure.  Even his accident… the kidnapping… he fought the urge to sob.  The slightest movement - breathing, James breathing – was sending bolts of pain from the small of his back up to the roots of his hair and down his legs… except…

“I can’t feel it at all.”  He mumbled.

James kissed the top of his head again.

“Can’t feel what?”

“My leg.  My right leg.  That side of my arse feels like it’s on fire but everything below it feels numb.  I can usually feel something but I can’t now.  It feels wrong.”  It was the second time he’d used that word but it was the only one he could think of to describe how it felt.

Wrong.

James didn’t move but pressed his cheek more firmly onto the top of Q’s head.  Q’s heart lurched when he realised that it was James’s way of hugging him tighter without hurting him.  He shuddered and gave out a small cry as the pain in his back exploded.

“Sorry sweetheart.”  James murmured, obviously thinking he’d done something wrong.  Q was about to tell him it wasn’t his fault when there was a quiet knock at the door and Doctor Kressler came in, closely followed by one of the nurses, Dawson.  He came straight over to them and set down the large triage bag he was carrying.

“Quartermaster.  Can you tell me what happened?”

“I sneezed.” Q said, feeling foolish, “It was just a sneeze.”

“He was twisted at the time, trying to pick up his bag.”  James added.

Kressler nodded as he slipped on a pair of examination gloves.

“Where is the pain exactly?”

“My back… waist height… I can’t feel my right leg…”

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?”

“Nine… maybe ten.”

“I’m going to take a look now.  I just need to loosen your clothing first.”

Q shivered as Kressler reached down to undo his belt and moaned as he popped the button on his trousers.  With the greatest of care he tugged free the hem of Q’s shirt and then moved around the back of him to lift it and his coat up.  Q moaned again, a helpless guttural sound of agony, as Kressler gently examined him.

“Okay Q.  We’re going to need you in Medical straight away.  I think between the three of us we should be able to get you onto the gurney and…”

“No, please…” He mumbled into James’s chest, realising how pathetic he sounded.  “Don’t move me.  Please don’t move me.”

“We need to darling.  You can’t stay here like this.” James said quietly.  Q whimpered again.

“I know but I don’t want to.” He said stubbornly.

Kressler reappeared at his elbow.  He had a short gas bottle with a mask attached.

“Here you go.  Take a couple of breaths of that, as deep as you can.”

James helped him hold the mask to his face.  He took a couple of breaths and his head swam.  It didn’t lessen the pain exactly but made it seem less important, disconnected.  Kressler then inserted a cannula into the back of his hand before giving him an injection.  Q heard him murmur;

“We’ll give that a couple of minutes Bond, then we’re moving him.”

The room seemed to dim a little and Q drifted.  He was vaguely aware that he was starting to drool on his husband’s chest but when he tried to move away the ‘wrongness’ in his back seemed to intensify a thousand percent.  James shushed him when he groaned and kissed his forehead.

“Don’t try to move yet darling.”

“I think we’re as good as we’re going to get here.”  He heard Kressler say after a while.  His wheelchair was shifted and James slipped a hand under his right leg and the other under his arm as Kressler and Dawson moved in closer.  Dawson mirrored James’s position on his left side and he felt Kressler place his hands on his shoulders.

“OK.” Kressler said. “As smoothly as you can please gentlemen.  Nice and slow.  On the count of three.  One… Two… Three…”

Q screamed.

 

~00Q~

 

James sat with his head in his hands staring at the empty bed that his husband would soon be occupying.  The last seven hours had been hell despite Kressler’s best efforts at managing Q’s pain.  By the time they’d got Q down into Medical a specialist had already been called.  Mr Baghat had his own clinic in Harley Street and was, according to Kressler, the best spinal surgeon in London.  He arrived an hour later, by which time Kressler had seen to it that Q had been scanned and x-rayed.  The news wasn’t good.  Q had slipped a disc in his lower back.  James had sat with Q as the doctor elaborated.

“I see this kind of injury all the time.  The fittest of athletes can fall foul of it and I’m afraid a humble sneeze is quite often the culprit.” Baghat had said. “Had you been able-bodied I might have sent you home with painkillers and anti-inflammatory drugs and recommended a course of gentle exercise.  These things very often rectify themselves but I’m afraid I don’t have that option with you.  The scan shows a large amount of old scarring in the area and I’m very sorry but you simply don’t have the mobility required to ease everything back into place.  The only option we have is surgery.”

The doctors left them alone when Q started to cry. Kressler told James as he left that he’d be sending Dawson in to take Q down for his operation.  James’s gut had twisted into knots as he’d held Q’s hand and tried to calm him down.

“It’ll be OK.”  He’d whispered.  “They’re going to take good care of you.”

Q was dopey with the painkillers he’d been given and James could see he was struggling to process the doctor’s diagnosis.

“I can’t do this.” He’d sobbed quietly.  “Not this again.  Not another operation.”

James has kissed his fingers and wiped the tears from his face.  His husband had once told him about his teenage years.  Newly-orphaned, he’d gone through eight operations between the ages of thirteen and nineteen before doctors admitted that nothing more could be done for him.  Despite the support of his adoptive mother they’d been hard years filled with pain and stress.

“I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you darling but I’m here now.  I’m here with you.  I’m not going anywhere.”

Q had given a small smile at his words, his eyes sliding shut.

“Tonight was going to be so special.  I can’t believe it’s been six years.”

“Six years and I love you just as much now as I did back then.  Maybe more.  The day you agreed to marry me was the happiest of my life.”

Q had looked as if he was about to drift off when he suddenly opened his eyes again.

“My coat…  I need my coat.”

James had frowned in confusion at Q’s sudden request and gone to get Q’s coat.  It had been placed, along with the rest of his clothes, in the small wardrobe in the corner of the room.  Bringing it back he placed it in Q’s hands and sat down again as he watched as him fumble with it.

“Can I help?”

“The right pocket.”

James had turned the garment and watched as Q had extracted a small box.

“What’s this?” He’d asked.

“I wanted to give this to you at dinner.  I wanted…”  He started to cry again.  “It was supposed to be special but now I want you to have it in case anything happens…”  James shushed him, stroking his hair.  “I’ve been such a fool.  Fighting with you… getting angry with you… when… when you’re the best thing that ever happened to me and I wasted so much time being pissed off at you…”  He finally managed to fumble the box open and James sighed when he saw what was inside it.  The ring was a replica of the one that Q wore, James’s grandfather’s ring that he’d given to him when he proposed.  “I know… I know you didn’t want to wear a ring when you still worked in the field… but… it’s platinum and… I made it for you and… I love you so much…”

James had gently guided Q’s hands as he took out the ring and helped him to slip it onto his finger.

“It’s beautiful.”  He’d said, leaning over to kiss Q’s forehead.  “I love you too baby boy.” Just then the door opened and Dawson came in to take Q to the operating theatre.  He held Q’s hand and gently removed his golden wedding ring.  He slipped it onto his own pinkie finger so it nestled next to the ring Q had just given him.  “They won’t let you wear jewellery in the O.R. my love.  Let me take care of this for you and you can have it back afterwards.”

He’d held Q’s hand for the walk down to the anti-room where the anaesthetist was waiting for him and watched as he was put to sleep.  Only then did he let go and let them take his husband from him.

James had wandered back up to the little room and sat down and, three hours later, he still hadn’t moved.  Kressler thought that the operation might take as little as two hours and James tried to ignore the panic in the back of his mind as the minutes ticked inexorably by.

They would tell him if something had gone wrong.

_(what if they were too scared to tell him)_

Baghat was the best there was.

_(that something had gone terribly wrong)_

There was no need to worry.

_(and he was already dead?)_

He shook his head angrily at the invasive thoughts and focussed instead on the rings on his fingers.  He smiled.  Despite everything, despite all their fights, Q must have spent so much time making his ring for him.  He pressed his lips to both of them.  Platinum and gold.  Two very different metals that complimented each other beautifully.  He huffed out a dry laugh.  Much like the two of them.  The physically vulnerable genius and his muscle-bound, blunt tool of a husband.  Yin and yang really but Christ were they perfect for each other.  James really couldn’t imagine living his life without Q now…

Before his thoughts could descend into misery again he was interrupted by the door flying open and Moneypenny barrelling in, closely followed by Tanner.  Standing to greet them, James was surprised when Eve strode over and hugged him tightly.

“James!  Thank God!  Are you OK?”  She released him and started to run her hands over his arms.  “Are you hurt?  How’s Q.  Oh God.  Is _he_ OK?”

James looked at her in confusion.

“No… he’s still in surgery…”

Eve made a small sound of distress.

“Oh darling.  I’m so sorry.  Was he badly hurt?  Will he be alright?  We saw the pictures.  It looked terrible.  God alone knows how you survived.”

James frowned.

“Eve.  What are you talking about?”

It was Eve’s turn to look confused.

“The restaurant.  You were at Pierre’s…”

“No.  We didn’t make it to the restaurant.  Q had an accident.  He slipped a disc in his back.  He’s in having surgery on his spine right now.”

“Oh thank God!”

James felt a prickle of irritation.

“Thank God?”  He growled.

Tanner stepped forward and touched Eve’s elbow.

“He doesn’t know, love.”  He said gently.  Going to the bedside cabinet he picked up the remote control for the television and turned it on.  He turned the channel over to the BBC’s News24.

James watched with growing unease as he realised what he was looking at.  The presenter’s voice droned over the pictures of a fiercely burning building.  It was Pierre’s.

_“… typical Friday night, packed with customers, many of whom would have spent months on the exclusive restaurant’s waiting list.  Disaster struck around nine p.m. when an explosion ripped through the building.  It’s not yet known how many people were inside at the time of the explosion but witnesses report that the small exclusive restaurant sat around fifty people, served by over a dozen staff.  So far there have been no reported survivors although several bodies have been recovered...”_

James turned to Tanner.

“Do we know what caused it?”

“Best guess so far is that it was a gas explosion.”

James watched the footage of the firefighters training their hoses on the flames and he shivered.

“There but for the grace of God.” Eve said quietly.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Q lay flat on his back and stared up from his bed, fighting the tears which threatened to fall.  It was stark white and featureless and he was tired of looking at it.  He’d been in Medical for over two weeks.  The operation on his back had been prolonged and the extended period under anaesthetic had exacerbated the effect of his cold, leaving him with a nasty chest infection. The worst of it had passed but he was fed up of being prodded and poked.  He hated doctors, he hated hospitals and he especially hated physiotherapists.

His physiotherapist, Summers, was standing next to the bed.

“Sir, I realise that this is uncomfortable but you really need to let me help you to sit up.”  Q turned his face away from him.  He knew he was being petulant but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  “Exercise in the first few weeks following surgery like yours is vital to you regaining as much movement as possible.  Five minutes.  That’s all I need from you today.”

Q swallowed hard, fighting the choking sensation in the back of his throat.

“No.”

Summers sighed.

“Sir, Q, please.  You really need to help me out here.”

“I said no.” He said tiredly.  He was sick of it.  So sick of it.  Nothing seemed to be improving.  He was sure that Mr Baghat had done a fine job of sorting out the scarring in his lower back so he could ease the stray disc back into position and pin his spine but the fact remained that he’d cut into Q for over six hours and that kind of trauma couldn’t be simply shrugged off.  And he was tired.  So fucking tired.  He hadn’t slept properly at all since he’d been in Medical.  The painkillers he was on had caused havoc with his stomach and he was sick of having his arse wiped by the staff.  Or even worse, by James.

James had been fabulous.  He’d hardly left his side, pretty much living at MI6 since Q’s surgery.  Doctor Conroy had eventually arranged for a second bed to be put in Q’s room for him but he spent most nights in Q’s, curled around him, trying to support him and keep him comfortable.  James rarely slept when he was beside Q though which was why he was currently dozing on his own bed while Q had his physio session.  Or at least while Summers tried to talk him into it.

“If you don’t follow the exercise programme I’ve devised for you I’ll have no option but to inform Mr Baghat…”  The surgeon had been to see Q a couple of times and was still acting as his lead doctor.

“So?  Tell him.”  Q realised he was being childish but he didn’t care.  He’d barely slept a wink and he just wasn’t in the mood.

“Maybe if I just…”

Summers grasped the bedcovers, intending no doubt to pull them off him.  Q grabbed them before he could.

“Will you just please just  _ fuck off _ ?”

His voice became shrill on the last words and the raw emotion he heard in them, the pain and distress, made it all too much for him.  His breath hitched and tears finally began to fall.  He buried his face in his hands as he heard James stir.

“What’s going on?”  He heard him ask Summers blearily.

“I’m sorry we woke you Bond.  Q just won’t co-operate at all today.  He’s got himself all worked up about something.”

“Let me talk to him.  What do you need him to do?”

“Just sit up, that’s all.  He needs to be sitting up several times a day now, trying to ease his back muscles if he can.  I realise it’s difficult for him but he needs to at least try.”

“Leave it to me.  Could I trouble you to arrange some privacy for us for a little while?”

“Of course.  I’ll see to it that you’re not disturbed for the rest of the afternoon.”

The door opened and closed and then Q felt the bed dip behind him.  His husband’s warm hand pressed down onto his side, cupping his ribs.

“What was that all about Tom?”

Q was still weeping and it redoubled at his husband’s softly spoken question.  He shook his head and James waited patiently until he could answer him.

“I’m just so tired.” He mumbled.  James’s hand shifted, stroking him.  “I don’t want to be here.”

“I know, darling.”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“Yes you can.”  James was matter-of-fact.

“I can’t,” Q insisted, “and what’s the point anyway?  At the end of the day I’ll still be a cripple.”

James’s fingers tightened.  Q knew James hated it when he spoke about himself like that.

“So you’re giving up.  And you expect me to hang around and watch you while you do that, do you?”  Q looked up at James, surprised at the sudden anger in his voice.

“I only meant… it hurts so much…”

“Fucking hell Tom.  I love you.  You know I do… I would support you and love you no matter what but not this.  Anything but this.”

He stood up and for one horrific moment he thought James was going to walk out.  Instead he walked to the foot of Q’s bed and stopped.

“You could have woken up from the surgery completely paraplegic.”  He said quietly, resting his fingers on the metal baseboard.  “Incontinent. Brain-damaged even.  Any of those things.  All of them.  I waited in this room for almost seven hours and I thought about them all.  Every worst case scenario.  And not one of those things would have affected the way I felt about you, not in the slightest.  I was going to love you anyway.”

He walked back over to the bed and gestured.  Q was shocked at the anguished look on James’s face.

“But this?  This giving up?  This accepting defeat when there is everything left to fight for?  You can’t expect me to stand by and watch that.  That’s not the man I married.  The man that I love.”

Q was stunned at James’s words.  They stung like a physical slap.  As he opened his mouth to argue the hurt he saw in his husband’s eyes stopped him.

“Oh James…”

He felt ashamed and tears welled up again.  He’d been so caught up in his own pain that he’d become obsessed by it.  He hadn’t considered James at all.  Never thought for a second how much it might have been killing him to watch Q struggle.  He put his arms out and James came to him immediately, sitting on the bed once more and letting Q pull him down into a hug.  James enveloped him, tucking his head into the side of his neck and kissing the soft skin he found there.  James squeezed Q as he started to cry again.

“I’m sorry sweetheart.  I don’t mean to be so blunt but it’s been tearing me apart watching you refuse to fight back.  I’ve felt like I’ve been on the verge of packing my bags all week.”  James kissed his neck again and then pulled back until he was resting on his elbows above Q so he could smooth away his tears.  Q immediately reached up and placed the palm of his hand on his face.  James huffed out a tired laugh and pressed Q’s hand to his cheek with his own and turned his head to kiss it.  “Oh darling.  I’m so crap at this.  Someday I’ll find a way to tell you how I feel without upsetting you.”

Q shook his head.

“It’s not… this is my fault.  I haven’t been trying… I know I haven’t.  I tried so hard before… when I was young… and it didn’t make any difference.  I still ended up in a wheelchair.”

“That’s true,” James agreed, “but you did manage to build yourself up enough to get yourself in and out of your chair on your own… to be able to use your crutches.  Do you think you’d have been able to do that if you hadn’t tried?”

“I suppose not.” Q said tiredly.

“And without being that mobile, do you think you’d ever have been able to live on your own?  Live your own life?  Work here and meet me?”

“Probably not, no.”

“So start fighting back you idiot.” He said with a smile, gently shaking him. “Do what they ask of you.  Listen to your doctors.”

Q smiled up at him suddenly amused, despite everything, at the notoriously Medical-phobic 007 telling him to listen to a doctor and thought about what Summers had been trying to get him to do.

“Will you help me to sit up please?”

James kissed him softly.

“With pleasure.”

James slipped his hands under Q’s shoulders and slowly started to lift him.  Q held onto him as tightly as he could, wincing as his discomfort increased with the pressure on his lower back.

“Oh.  Oh.”  He shuddered, gasping in pain, and was about to ask James to lie him back down again when his husband started to speak in a low voice.

“The first time I saw you I was struck by how wild your hair was.”  Q tried to look at him but was stopped by James slipping his fingers up into his hair and cradling his head to make him rest it on James’s shoulder.  “It was months before I got to touch it but when I did, it was just as soft as I’d imagined.” He kissed the side of Q’s head and then breathed in, nuzzling him.  “I remember the first time we fucked. The first time we actually managed it.  I buried my face in it as I made love to you. You’d been so tense the first couple of times that we tried it but one night it all clicked and you felt so good.  It feels good every time…” He kissed him again, trailing his lips up to the little patch of smooth skin behind Q’s ear.  “The first time I had to sleep with a man in the field afterwards… it felt so wrong.  The way he shifted his hips, pushed back onto me.  I…”  He felt James shiver. “I realised then that I just couldn’t do it anymore.  I couldn’t.  I spent hours in the shower trying to feel clean afterwards… when I got back and reported in they told me you’d broken your wrist… fuck.” James kissed him again.  “The moment I came home and found you lying there on the sofa I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.  I know you worry.  I know you think that I love you despite your disability… and I know that you must be finding it so hard to be so helpless right now but I want you to know that I adore you baby boy and that your disability is all part of why I love you.  It’s the reason you ended up where you did in life.  The reason we met.  I love you so much and if I have to wipe your arse every day for the rest of my life to prove that to you then I will.”

Q huffed out a laugh.  He’d stopped crying and he was resting his head tiredly on James’s shoulder.

“You don’t usually talk about your feelings so much.”  He mused.

“I’m not usually trying to distract you into sitting up for a full five minutes.”  James whispered.  “Here…”  He laid Q back down on the bed every bit as carefully as he’d sat him up.  Q winced as he was laid flat and James smoothed his bedding back up over him.  “Okay?”

Q nodded, gritting his teeth against the increased pain in his back.

“Give it an hour or so and we’ll try it again.”

There was a knock at the door and James swore.  He got up to answer it.

“I thought Summers was going to…” He opened the door, “… Sir?”

“May I come in?”

“Of course.”

James stepped back and M entered with a file tucked under his arm.  He closed the door firmly behind himself.   There were a couple of plastic chairs in the room and M grabbed one and seated himself next to Q’s bed.  James sat in the armchair next to him and they watched as M took a small device from his pocket.  He pressed a button on the side of it, activating it.

“A scrambler Sir?”  Q asked, recognising the device as one of his own as M set it down on the table over his bed.  It was designed to disrupt any electronic listening devices or cameras within three metres of them.

“I’d prefer that what I’m about to say stays between the three of us.  Miss Moneypenny informed me that, had it not been for your mishap Q, you both would have been in that restaurant Pierre’s Room at the exact time of the explosion there.”

“We would have.” James said quietly.

He slipped his hand into Q’s.  He’d told Q about the restaurant a couple of days after his operation.  Mallory noticed their little display of affection but didn’t comment on it.

“That was an awfully big coincidence.  Unfortunately, I don’t believe in coincidences.”  Mallory stated.  “So I got in touch with a contact I have in the Met.  Asked him to let me know the results of their investigation.  I have the preliminary findings here.”  He plonked the file on the table.  “Do either of you know what triethyl phosphate is?”

“It’s a primarily a cleaning agent.” Q said.  “In various concentrates it can be used as a lubricant, stain remover, degreaser…”  He trailed off when he realised that M and James were both staring at him.

“Quite so.” M said after a moment. “So the fact that the forensic team investigating found traces at the primary site of the blast, the kitchen, should come as no surprise.”

“I have a feeling there’s a ‘but’ coming.” James said.

M nodded.

“But, not in the  _ quantity _ they found.  There was far too much for them to have just been cleaning the ovens with it.”

“Maybe it was used as an accelerant.” Q said quietly.  “In its original state it’s perfectly stable but it can be easily manipulated into something quite volatile…  Anyone with a GCSE in chemistry could do it.  Perhaps the firebug thought that the fire would burn out enough of the traces to make it look like the remains of innocuous cleaning products.”

“Do you think this was a deliberate act?” James asked M.

“It’s too soon to say but early findings would seem to indicate that, yes.  The Met are sitting on this at the moment.  I’m calling in a few favours and I’m going to get the investigation passed over to MI5.  The restaurant was renovated a few months ago and there was a reported gas leak in the building next door a week before the explosion.  I want to know everyone who’s worked on it and in it over the past few months.  Maybe that will throw something up.”

“Why not let MI6 investigate Sir?”  Q asked.

Mallory looked grim.

“How many people knew you were planning to eat there that night?”

Q considered the question.

“Um.  Moneypenny… so Tanner too I guess.  R knew.  A couple of other people in my department.”

“And you Bond?”

“Dexter, 003.  Trevelyan, 006.  Conroy in here.  It wasn’t really a secret.  Are you thinking that there’s another mole?”

“Dunn was a bust.  We all know that.  Payment by dead drops.  Texts from untraceable burner phones.  He never met anyone face to face and the man who Dexter captured wasn’t much more use.”

Q shivered as he thought about the well-groomed man who’d been in charge of his kidnapping.  Dexter had incapacitated him before taking down Collos but it turned out he had killed the wrong person.  The well-groomed man, who was they quickly discovered was called Peter Finch, had been little more than a hired thug, paid to soften the way for Collos.  Finch sang like the bird he shared his name with when interrogated but he knew very little.  Collos had been his only contact.  James saw Q’s uneasiness and he squeezed his hand, giving him a reassuring little smile.

“So what do we do now?”  Q asked, hating the way his voice caught at the back of his throat.

“Your primary concern is to get better.  I spoke to Kressler.  He informs me that you’re likely to be in here for another fortnight at least before being discharged for an extended period of rehabilitation that could take months.  My main concern is that during your recovery you’re likely to spend long periods alone in your home.  If I give Bond permission to stay off work to protect you full time or assign a protection detail I’m essentially letting whoever it is who’s after you know that we’re onto them.  That might lead to them making another attempt on your lives.”

“You have an idea.”  James said.

“I want you to disappear.”  M replied.  “Smuggle Q out of here.  I’m sure a man of your abilities could manage that.  Take him away somewhere to recover, I don’t want to know where.”

“You don’t?” Q frowned.

“The only way we can guarantee your safety in the short run is by no-one knowing where you’ve gone and I mean no-one.  Not even the people you consider to be your most trusted friends and allies.  Not even me.  I’ll continue my investigations and see if I can’t discover who was behind the restaurant fire.  That might give us a better idea of who would want you neutralised.”

Q looked over at James who was staring into mid-space.

“Darling?”

“I think I may know of somewhere.  Anonymous.  Exceptional security.  I’d need to call in a favour… make a few calls…”

“Excellent.” M said, standing up.  “I’ll expect an irate phone call from the doctor’s in here by the end of next week.”

~00Q~

Q’s rehabilitation continued slowly but his physiotherapist was delighted to see a change in the attitude of his patient.  Q was trying much harder and Summers was sure that Bond had a lot to do with it.  The quartermaster’s husband started to take an active part in all of their sessions, encouraging and helping Q and asking a hundred questions about his therapies.  What were the long term aims?  How soon could Q start swimming?  How soon would it be before he could include weight-training into his schedule?

A few days after Q’s mini meltdown he managed to sit himself up without using the hoist above his bed and a week later he sat in his wheelchair unaided for over an hour. Summers told him he was proud of him and all his hard work as he and Bond helped him back into his bed.

The following morning, when he arrived to give Q his next session, they were gone.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Q lay on the day bed and looked up at the blue, cloudless sky.

There was a slight breeze which made the heat of the morning sun bearable.  He had not long got out of his cool morning shower and come out onto the sun deck to read but already he could feel the sweat prickling his skin.  He smiled to himself.  It felt positively decadent to be lazing around naked under the open sky but the area was secluded and the only person likely to see him there was his husband.

The Galactica was the world’s largest privately owned residential yacht, a title it had claimed from another yacht, The World, when it was launched in 2015.  It boasted 189 residences in all and Q and James were currently inhabiting a stunning three-bedroomed apartment on one of the upper decks.  The apartments on the yacht were all owned by people from around the world.  A few were lived in permanently but most were used as holiday homes for the super-rich and occupied for just a few months of every year.  James had arranged the loan of the apartment they were using by calling in a favour owed to him by a ‘businessman’ in Turkmenistan.  Several years before James had saved the man’s only daughter when she was kidnapped by gun runners.  He’d been only too happy to let James have the apartment for as long as he needed.

James had arranged for a private jet to take them to Rome to meet up with the ship.  Q had still been weak but James had found a way to have him flown as a medical emergency.  A anonymously-hired doctor had been on hand to keep Q anaesthetised just enough so that he actually didn’t care that he was flying and he’d completed the entire journey dozing on a stretcher.  They’d boarded the ship at ten o’clock at night and when Q finally awoke the following morning they were twenty miles out to sea.

They’d been there for four months, all told and the first month had been the hardest.  Q had still been in quite a lot of discomfort post-surgery and despite James’s best efforts to make sure he had all the painkillers he needed, there were nights when the pain was so bad he could do nothing but try to ride it out with gritted teeth.  The tablets they had for Q had taken an hour to work and they’d only given him relief for around four hours.  As the directions stated that they should be taken no more than every six hours it meant that two hours out of every six had been agonising.  Slowly though, things began to improve and throughout it all, James had been his rock.

As Q lay in the sunshine, stretched out on the soft white cotton sheet, he reflected on their relationship.  Rocky after the kidnapping of almost a year before, they were now stronger than ever.  On the long nights that Q had suffered James had held him and they’d talked; actually talked.  Q had admitted that throughout their relationship he had worried that he wasn’t quite good enough for James. That maybe one day James would tire of having to care for a disabled partner and having Q depend on him.  It was something that was likely to become more common as they grew old together.  He came to realise that he’d always been waiting for the day that James would decide that he’d had enough.  

During those heartfelt conversations James had finally opened up and admitted to Q that he often felt inadequate.  As an agent he’d become used to barrelling into situations and fixing them.  With Q’s disability there was no fixing to be done and despite James knowing it on a logical level, he’d had a constant fear of not being enough for Q.  Eventually they’d come to an agreement that they were both what the other needed; Q needed a certain level of physical care that James loved to provide for him and in return Q was the emotional rock that James needed to anchor himself to, a steadfast lover who understood the emotionally challenging life that James had led as a Double O agent for so many years.

Q felt himself drifting, the far-off rumble of the ship’s engines and the crash of the sea against the bow of the ship lulling him.  He felt good now, probably better than he’d felt for years, if he was honest.  He still got cramping and muscles spasms but the base of his back felt much freer thanks to Mr Baghat and his insistence on doing everything he could for Q.  He’d hated him for cutting so deep at the time, loathed him, but now he was thankful.  And James… having him as a husband had meant he’d been pushed, wheedled and cajoled into exercising daily.  The ship had a large gym and several pools and they’d started to visit them as soon as Q was able.  Q thought back to their early attempts, the pain, the tears of frustration and eventually the feeling of accomplishment as he was gradually able to build up what muscles he could.

Q shifted.  The sun began to warm his naked body and he idly reached down to twitch the sheet beside him over his hips.  He’d never live it down if he burned his cock…  He smiled as he began to doze.

 

~00Q~

 

James padded quietly into the apartment and grinned when he saw Q’s wheelchair in the middle of the room with no sign of his husband.

For months he’d struggled to get up onto his crutches without James’s help but if the chair was here he must have managed it when James was out.  He went out onto the deck and stood for a while, just drinking in the sight of the man he loved.  Sure enough Q’s crutches were on the floor beside the daybed.   A book rested next to him on the bed along with his glasses.  He appeared to be sleeping, his head turned towards James.  Q had a scruffy beard and his hair was longer than normal giving him a bohemian look and James loved it, seeing his usually buttoned down husband so relaxed.  He loved  _ him, _ so damn much.  There was a white sheet laid over his mid-section and the sunshade covered most of the bed but his feet were under the glare of the sun.  James reached up and moved the shade so he was completely covered.  Q had a terrible habit of getting his feet sunburnt as he couldn’t really feel when they got too hot.

“Did you walk all the way back from the pool looking like that?”

He smiled at Q’s quietly spoken words and looked back to see him peering up at him through sleepy, half-closed eyes.

“What’s wrong with looking like this?”

“Nothing, if you don't mind giving poor old Mrs Richardson a heart attack one of these days…”

Mrs Richardson was a widow in her eighties who owned an apartment a few decks below.  They’d become quite friendly with her even though she made no secret of trying to seduce James away from Q every opportunity she got.  She had a habit of sitting on the promenade outside her apartment in the mornings with the express intention of ogling James when he returned from his early morning swim.  James looked down at himself.  He was dressed in just his black Speedos with a towel slung over his shoulder.  They didn’t leave a lot to the imagination, he had to admit.  He dropped the towel and flexed his biceps.

“My trunks?  Don’t you like them?”  He struck a pose, tensing his stomach muscles.

“No,” Q replied slyly.  “I hate them.  Take them off immediately.”

James grinned as he slowly peeled off the damp material.  Once fully naked he resumed his pose.

“Is that better?”

Q looked up and down.  James felt himself harden under his appreciative gaze.  Christ.  How long had they been together?  All that time and Q could still arouse him with a glance.  Q put his hand out to him.

“Much better.  Come here darling.”

James put a knee on the daybed and carefully put Q’s glasses and book on the table beside it.  He then lay down beside him, gently drawing him into his arms.

“Good morning sweetheart.”  

Q hummed contentedly as James began to kiss him.  Lazy kisses and licks soon intensified and Q sighed into it, winding his arms around James’s neck as he slipped his tongue into his mouth.  James pushed back with his own as he ran his hand down over Q’s side, pushing away the sheet to cup his hip.  He trailed his thumb over the prominent bone before reaching between Q’s legs to cradle his balls.

“James…”

Q’s recuperation had been hard on their love life, they both admitted.  There had been several occasions when Q had stopped James from trying to touch him intimately.  Each time James had done as he was asked and he’d done his best to show Q that it was all okay, that they made love only when Q wanted to, but at the same time he had been clear in his affections.  He loved Q and desired him, no matter how badly Q might be viewing himself.

“Let me?” He murmured against his lips before moving to kiss under his chin.  Q nodded so James carried on down his body, kissing and nuzzling him as he trailed his lips down his chest.  He paused at Q’s nipples, drawing them both into his mouth in turn until they were ruddy and stiff.  He moved onto his lower ribs, kissing and nipping the flesh there.  When he’d first seen Q naked he’d been concave here, his body narrowing into an impossibly skinny waist.  His body had changed over the years they’d been together.  James saw to it that Q ate healthily and exercised as much as he was able so he was bulkier now.  He trailed his fingers over the ghost of the scar on his abdomen.  He’d thought him fragile, vulnerable, when they first met but he was one of the strongest people James knew.  Stronger even than James in many ways.  He pressed his face to his stomach and breathed in shakily.  He’d come so close to losing him the day they were kidnapped…

“James?”

Q’s fingers wound around the back of his neck and gripped him lightly.  James kissed his navel and closed his eyes, brushing his face over the soft skin.

“I love you baby boy.”  The grip on his neck tightened and he paused for a moment, licking and savouring the taste of his husband’s skin.  He ran his hand over Q’s hip again.  “I want you.”

There was no sound of protest from Q so he shuffled down the bed slightly so he could press his lips to the base of his cock.  His husband was still flaccid so he smoothed his hand over his balls and then took his soft cock into his mouth. He mouthed at him, enjoying the intimacy.

When James had first begun sleeping with Q it had quickly become apparent that Q’s physical problems only contributed to a part of his erectile issues.  A larger problem was Q’s own expectations.  He would become embarrassed and angry if his body didn’t react the way he wanted it to, which only made things worse.  It had taken James the longest time to convince Q that all he wanted was to touch him.  To be close to him.  He didn’t care if Q got hard for him or not.  He didn’t care that Q couldn’t move his hips or easily flip for him (although they had managed that a couple of times thanks to the Estim James had bought).  James didn’t even care if he couldn’t get off himself.   All he cared about was that his man was happy.  That he felt cherished.  At first Q had been unsure.  He’d spent years fretting over sex and his limitations that although he told James he believed him, he could see that Q struggled to really accept it.  Things had taken a turn for the worse after the kidnapping and Q’s assault.  He had been in more pain than he’d been used to but desperate to show James that he was okay.  For James’s part, he’d been overprotective – he knew he had – and as they both struggled to show the other that they were okay, things between them had started to go badly wrong.

Q’s second accident had been a blessing in disguise.  Although it had knocked him for six physically it had saved their lives by keeping them away from the restaurant that night.  There was a hideous period after the surgery when Q was entirely dependent on James for his intimate care and James knew that Q had hated it.  He’d been unable to use the bathroom unaided.  Unable to sit for longer than a few minutes.  He couldn’t use his crutches.  Couldn’t transfer himself into or out of his chair.  James had to do everything for him and through it all he’d attempted to show Q just how much he loved him and still desired him.  Brushing kisses over the side of his neck every time he lifted him.  Holding him close and stroking his hair back off his face every time he puked.  Even cuddling him when supporting him on the toilet when he was too weak to sit upright himself.

It had been a long recovery, most likely made longer by their exile away from medical professionals.  It would have been easier if Q had been in a hospital for longer but in a strange way, James wasn’t sure if they’d be as close as they were now if they had stayed.

Q moaned above him and James slipped his hand up to cradle his balls as he looped his fingers around the base of his cock.  It had filled out slightly with James’s attention but was still mostly soft.  The hand on the back of his neck tugged and he slowly drew off him.

“Come here…” Q murmured.  James crawled back up the bed and settled back into his husband’s arms.  Q gave out a small sigh of pleasure as James kissed him, opening his mouth to his licking, probing tongue.  He stroked his hand down James’s naked body to his hip and then tugged on it, pulling their bodies flush together.  He then slipped his hand down between them to stroke James’s erection.  He began to murmur against his lips in between kisses.  “I want you to come all over me.   Will you do that for me my darling?  Will you cover my belly with your come?  Make me all sticky?”  James groaned at his husband’s words.  Q knew that his talking dirty did wonderful things to him.  He shuddered and Q smiled as a spurt of precome slicked his fingers.  “You’re a bad man.”  He crooned.  “ Walking around the ship in your tiny swimmers.  Did you want all the old ladies to look at your cock?  Such a slut.  You know this is mine…”  Q’s fingers never stopped moving and James began to pant.  “You’re quite close now aren’t you?  What would you do if I changed my mind?”  Q’s fingers slowed and his grip loosened until there was just a single finger on the top of his shaft.  His thumb began to rub over his frenulum and the base of his glans.  James started to tremble.  It felt so good.  “What if I said you weren’t allowed?  What if I said you should be punished for letting everyone see your body when you know it’s just for me?”

“Please darling...  Tom…”

Q slipped his other hand up into James’s hair and gripped it tight, pulling his head back.  James groaned again.

“Could you hold it I wonder?  Could you stop yourself from coming if I said no?”

Fuck, he was so close.  He closed his eyes when he felt Q’s hot breath on his neck.  He felt totally exposed despite the fact there was no-one to see.  The things that this man did to him.  With a hand in his hair and two talented fingers on his cock he was playing James like a highly strung bow.  He legs jerked as another dribble of precome escaped him.

“Oh.  Now that’s too much.”  Q gently chided him.  The grip on his hair tightened as Q smoothed his fingertips over James’s slit, scooping up his wetness.  When he pressed his coated fingers to James’s lips he opened his mouth and sucked on them eagerly.  “Lick them clean.”  Q allowed James to suck the salt from them before trailing them back down his body, making the muscles in his stomach jump.  He ran his fingers over James’s erection again.  Tugging on James’s hair he made him extend his neck again so he could trail kisses over his pulse point.  

James moaned, his legs kicking lightly at the exquisite sensation of being held right on the edge of orgasm.

“Tom... _ fuck… _ ”

Q’s teasing fingers suddenly changed into a tightly gripping, tugging fist.

“I want you to come now darling.”

James sobbed as he felt everything unspool.  His hips jerked as he started to come, jet after jet of pearly white come spattering up Q’s belly.  He felt a wave of relief which turned into torment after a few moments.  Q kept stroking him firmly as his fingers left James’s hair.  He cradled James’s face and stroked his thumb over his cheekbone.  James whimpered as he was overstimulated.  Eventually Q slowed his strokes and turned them back into gentle caresses before looping his hand back around James's waist.  He smiled and guided James to him so he could kiss him again.  James hugged him close and slid his fingers up into his hair.  After a moment he tried to reach down to touch Q’s cock again but he stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

“I’m okay.”

James smiled, knowing better than to push to issue.

“As long as you’re happy baby boy.”

“How could I not be?  Do you have any idea how sexy you are when you’re on the edge like that?”

James huffed out a laugh.

“I thought you were going to give me a fucking heart attack for a minute there…”

It was Q’s turn to laugh.

“That’s because you’re a very,  _ very _ old man…”

“Cheeky bastard.”  James rolled him backwards and laid over him, not caring about the cooling come he smeared between their bellies.  “I ran, cycled and swam the equivalent of a triathlon in the gym this morning before you even dragged your weedy little arse out of bed!”

Q slung his arms up over James’s neck.

“Weedy little arse?”  He repeated with a raised eyebrow.   _ “Weedy. Little. Arse?” _    He was trying to look stern but James could see the mirth in his eyes.

“Mmmm.”  He kissed him softly.  “So weedy… so small…  I think I need to feed you up some more.”

“Does that mean breakfast?”

“That means breakfast…”

 

~00Q~

 

James usually cooked for them but they decided to place an order for brunch with the ship’s hotel service before heading for a bath together.  By the time they emerged, wrapped in matching white towelling robes the small table on the balcony had been laid for them and their food was waiting for them under silver covers.  They ate slowly, feeding each other titbits and reading the day’s papers together on Q’s tablet. Eventually Q lost interest in them and began looking out to sea.  It was a brilliant blue under the Mediterranean sun.  Eventually his wool-gathering was interrupted by James gently nudging him.

“Tell me.”

He looked back and saw that the tablet now lay on the table, discarded.  James was watching him closely.

“Hmm?”

“For the last couple of days… you’ve had something on your mind.  Tell me what it is.”

It was on the tip of Q’s tongue to deny it but sighed when James took his hand.

“I’m feeling better.  Much better.  Probably the best I’ve felt for years.” He looked into James’s eyes.  For a moment they seemed the exact same blue as the sea.  “And this… all of this… the apartment… the boat… being with you… it’s all been so wonderful.  We never did get to go on honeymoon when we married but these past few months….”

James squeezed his hand.  It felt warm and dry.

“You want to go home.”

Q nodded.  James picked his hand up and kissed his fingers.

“You love your job.  I know you do.”  He smiled and it made the skin around his eyes crinkle adorably.  “And you were my quartermaster long before you were my husband.  I know how much it means to you.  I’ve been half-expecting you to ask to go home for a couple of weeks now.  I knew that as soon as you felt up to it that you’d want to go back.”

“Do you mind?”

“Why would I mind sweetheart?  This has been lovely and a part of me could stay here forever but we both have jobs to do.  Mallory’s no closer to finding out who was responsible for the explosion at Pierre’s and I’m starting to think that he needs our help.  Look.”  He picked up the tablet and quickly brought up the ship’s timetable.  “We’re due to call at Athens tomorrow.  We could disembark there and catch a flight.”

“Or…” Q said slowly as he turned the tablet towards himself, “We could wait nine days, cruise our way around the Mediterranean, up the side of Portugal and Spain and then hire a car from Southampton…”

James smiled and sidled closer so he could tug on the collar of Q’s robe and kiss the side of his neck.

“I’ve married a genius.  That’s what I’ve done.  I’ll call Mallory.  I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear we’re coming home.”  He went into the bedroom and reached in under the bedside table on his side of the bed.  Near the back, taped to the underside of the bottom drawer was a cheap mobile phone.  He’d told Q he paid cash for it and its twin in two separate supermarkets near their flat the day before he’d smuggled them away.  He’d posted one of the phones to Mallory at his home address.  The man hadn’t been best pleased that James had managed to find out where he lived but as James had told Q, he worked with spies so James wasn’t really sure what he’d expected.

He sat back down and Q watched as he turned on the phone.  He dialled the only number stored in its memory and then activated the speakerphone.  After a couple of rings Mallory picked up.

“I’m secure.” He stated perfunctorily, indicating no-one could listen in on his end of the conversation.  “Please tell me this isn’t an emergency.  The Americans are getting twitchy about a possible plot against Trump, Brexit has stuffed up several of our long-term covert operations and my wife has threatened to take the children to her mother’s if I spend another night in the office this week.”

“No emergency Sir.”  James glanced up and grinned at Q.  “Might even be some good news.  We’re coming back.”

“Thank Christ for that,” M said. “Q, I didn’t want to tell you while you were still recuperating but I need you back in your department.  Whole bloody thing seems to run better when you’re in there cracking the whip.”

Q felt a flutter of satisfaction.

“I’m sure I’ll soon have everything under control Sir.”

“When can I expect you?”

“We’ll be back in the office on the twenty-eighth, all being well.  We’re due into the country two days before that.”

“Let me know the details of your flight and I’ll see to it that a car is sent.”

“No flight Sir.”  James replied.  “We’re on a ship.  Send a car to meet The Galactica when it docks at Southampton.”

“Will do.  I’ll organise it myself.  Enjoy the rest of your holiday gentlemen.”

Mallory rung off and Q turned off their phone.  With a smile he picked up a strawberry out of the fruit bowl in front of him.

“Nine more days darling.  Whatever are we going to do for nine whole days?”  He very slowly licked the end of the fruit before messily biting into it.  He tried to look innocent as the juice spurted down his chin.  James growled before grabbing his head with both hands and licking the juice up into his mouth.

“Well, I’m not sure but give me five minutes and I’m sure I can come up with an extremely long and creative list…”

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

After it seeming like they’d been on The Galactica for years, the last few days on board passed in a flash.  They slowly began to pack up the few possessions that they’d acquired and James stopped going to the gym for his early morning workouts without Q.  They had been the only times that they had ever been apart on board but James realised that he didn’t want to miss a single minute of their remaining time without his husband nearby.  Instead they used the pool and the gym together, roamed the ship together and spent long hours sunbathing side by side.

Q seemed to feel the need to be close to James too.  He was forever reaching out to him to touch his arm or hold his hand whenever he could.  Whenever they made love, which they did regularly, he held onto James so tightly, as if he was scared that their new-found appreciation of each other was going to end when they docked at Southampton.

They decided that they would leave the ship much the same way as they arrived – with no warning.  It was sad to speak to the few friends that they’d made on board knowing full well that they’d most likely never see them again.  Mrs Richardson, the elderly lady with a penchant for James in his little trunks was one such friend.  She had a thousand wonderful stories about her life with her five husbands (all sadly deceased) and as such she was quite the dinner guest.  That was why James and Q happily accepted an invitation to her table in the main restaurant to help her celebrate her eighty-second birthday three days before they were due to disembark.  They spent a merry couple of hours with her, eating and drinking champagne before James waltzed her around the dance floor until she was dizzy with laughter.  At ten-thirty James gallantly kissed her hand and excused them, saying that they needed to get going.

They strolled along the wider level three viewing deck, enjoying the night air. There were a couple of residents sat on sun loungers drinking champagne and admiring the view of the full moon  They had barely passed them when James came to a halt.  He crouched down in front of the wheelchair and carefully moved Q’s feet so he could fold back the foot rests.  Q looked surprised.

“What are you doing?”

“I want you to dance with me.”

Q laughed.  They were just close enough to the restaurant to still be able to hear the band playing.

“I can’t dance darling.  You know that.”

“You’re with me.  You can do whatever you like when you’re with me.”

Encouraging Q to wrap his arms around his neck James stood up smoothly, slipping his hands around Q’s waist and pulling him in close.  Q clung onto James as he was settled on his feet.  James could feel him trembling as his weak muscles tried to hold him but he smiled up at James as he began to sway them to the music.  James gazed at his husband and admired the way the light from the full moon caught in his flyaway hair, crowning him with a silvery halo.  He was dressed in a tuxedo, as James was, and he looked simply stunning.  He slid his hand up and cupped the back of his head so he could kiss him slowly and thoroughly.  When they broke it off Q grinned at him dopily.

“What was that for?”

James smiled at him

“Because I love you.”

“I love you too…”

“I want you to know that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”  Q tilted his head as if he wasn’t quite sure what James was getting at.  “We’re going home baby boy.  In two days time we’ll be sleeping in our own bed.  By the end of the week we’ll be back at work and I’m scared that I won’t remember to tell you that I love you often enough.”

“You tell me all the time.” Q said.

“Not like this,” James admitted, “Not apropos of nothing.  I usually say it because you’ve done something clever or I’ve got my dick in you or for some other stupid reason.  I wanted to tell you now for no reason.  I love you so fucking much.  I hope you know that.”

Q leaned forward and they kissed again slowly.

“I do but you don’t have to tell me you know,” Q said quietly, with a sly smile, “You could take me to bed and show me what…”  He was cut off by a loud retort from somewhere in the middle of the ship.  At the same moment the music stopped. “Was that…?”

“Gunfire.”  James replied, quickly lowering Q back into his chair and helping him to put his feet back on the rests.  “Into the shadows, quickly.”

Q immediately propelled himself to where the deck above the one they were on cast a shadow onto the side of the ship.  James followed and dropped down so he could see up the promenade as Q faced down it.  There were suddenly two more shots and the distant sound of screaming.

“That sounds like it came from the restaurant.”  Q said.  As James watched he reached in under the seat of his wheelchair and, after a little fumbling, drew out a Walther which he handed to him.  It was a palm-coded gun but when James gripped it, the LED glowed red.   He was about to complain that it didn’t work when he saw that Q was reaching under his seat again. “We need to know what’s going on.  It may be pirates, although we’re a little far north for that.”  He passed James another gun and then reached under himself a third time.  “You should get up to the bridge and make sure it hasn’t been compromised.  Get a distress call out if you can.”  He straightened up again and placed a small drawstring bag on his lap.  From it he extracted two spare magazines of ammunition and two silencers.  He handed one of each to James.  “Make sure that the ship stays on its original course and see if you can’t secure the crew up there.  Lock them in if you can. I’ll stay here and wait for you.”

“I’m not leaving you here.” James said, stubbornly.

“Don’t be a twat James.  I’m not manoeuvrable enough to go up the stairs with you and we certainly can’t use the lifts.” Q said curtly as he opened the small box that he’d pulled out of the pouch and took out two tiny earpieces.  He stuffed one in his own ear and then gave one to James.  “Comm check.”

James put his earpiece and tapped it but just got a sudden low-level rush of static.  James studied his husband’s determined face and fought the urge to laugh.  He really was the most brilliant man he’d ever met.  Q tapped his radio and frowned when his evidently didn’t work either.

“These should work.  Why aren’t they working?” He muttered.

“How the hell did you manage to build all this equipment into your chair without me noticing anyway?”  He asked as he attached the silencer to his gun.

“Well, it  _ is _ what I do for a living James.”  Q said dryly.  He peered up the corridor.  “Okay, listen.  We’re only about twenty metres away from Mrs Richardson’s apartment on this deck.  If I’m right, she’ll still be in the restaurant and most likely being forced to stay there.  She never locks her door so it’s the ideal place for me to tuck myself away.  I’ll go and wait for you there while you go and check on the bridge.”

“I can walk you there first.”  James offered.  He felt supremely uncomfortable at the thought of leaving Q behind.

“No.  The bridge is our first priority.  Once you’ve secured it, have a look at the ship’s communications equipment and see if you can’t work out what’s blocking our ear pieces.  Now GO!”

Instead of standing up James grabbed Q’s face with both hands and kissed him soundly.

“You are quite the most brilliant, determined, brave and beautiful man that I have ever met and I'm going to give you  _ such _ a fucking when all this is over.”

Q barked out a laugh and slapped James’s arm.

“Bridge James, now.”

Snatching one last kiss James stood up and ran down the deck.

~00Q~

Q watched as James moved off, keeping to the shadows as he headed for the front of the ship.  He looked around himself.  He was alone, the late-night drinkers having scurried off at the first sound of gunfire.  He tucked his gun down between his legs and the spare magazine into the pocket of his tuxedo before setting off for Mrs Richardson’s apartment.

He’d thought he’d be safe.  They were halfway along the third of eight decks on that side of the ship.  Anyone methodically searching ship wasn’t likely to reach this area for some time but as he approached the viewing area he overheard voices coming from the deck above.  He froze and held his breath as he listened.

“Jorge!  Any sign?”

“Their cabin was empty.  Samuel and his team have fifty or so of the residents in the restaurant.  No sign of a wheelchair though.”

Q’s blood ran cold.  They were looking for someone in a wheelchair.  There was a chance it was all a coincidence but in light of the events of the past year, much like Mallory, he wasn’t sure he believed in coincidences any more.  He looked around himself.  He needed to hide.  There was nowhere  _ to _ hide.  The men above continued talking.

“Tell Samuel to go through the residents.  He needs to make all the men who look between thirty and forty years old stand and walk to see if he’s hiding in plain sight.  It may be just his wheelchair that isn’t there.”

Q heard footsteps and realised he had no time to get away.  He looked around himself again, searching for something that might help.  His eyes rested on the sun loungers and hysterical laughter almost escaped him as he remembered a scene from the film ‘The Princess Bride’.  Westley prone on a bed, bluffing his way out of a fight…

As the men above him finished their conversation, Q rolled over to the nearest lounger.  Hauling himself onto it he laid his legs out in front of him and then turned and collapsed down the chair, laying it down.  It was too big to slide under the lounger but a second was all he needed.  As long as the man didn’t see it straight away his plan might work.  There was an open-slatted staircase beside him and he watched as the man started to descend, heading away from him.  Quickly tucking his Walther under his jacket he laid back and grabbed one of the abandoned glasses of champagne and the half full bottle.

The man reached the bottom of the stairs and for a brief tantalising moment it looked as though he was going to head down the ship away Q.  He turned at the last moment and caught sight of Q.  He immediately raised the SIG MCX rifle he was carrying.

“You!  You can’t be here!”

Q smiled at him and giggled in what he hoped looked like a gormless, drunken way.  He raised the glass and gestured towards him with it, sloshing the champagne over his hand.  He frowned.

“I can’t be where exac’ly?”

The man gestured with his weapon.

“You!  Get up!  You’re coming with me!”

“I don’t think sho,” He slurred, taking a sip. “My wife… my wifesh fucked off you shee.  Gone to the bar for another bottle.   She’d have me bollocksh if I went anywhere without her.”

“Your wife will be picked up by one of my colleagues, if she hasn’t already. Stand up!”  Q slopped the drink again and went to rest his hand on his lap, inches away from his hidden gun.  “PUT YOUR HANDS UP!!”

The man walked towards him, shoving the foot of the lounger in an attempt to get Q to move.  Q raised his hands in a cockeyed manner and let the bottle slip from his fingers.  It hit the deck with a resounding crack and spewed its contents towards the man.  The gunman glanced at the spreading liquid and took a step back, unconsciously dropping the end of his gun.  Q took his chance.  Dumping the glass he snatched up his own gun and took a shot.

Following the kidnap, James has insisting on spending countless hours with Q in MI6’s firing ranges.  Already a fair shot, his husband’s additional training paid off as Q’s bullet found its mark, one inch above the man’s right eye.  Q watched with a nauseous fascination as he took two stumbling steps backwards, dropping his gun from nerveless fingers.

“What… what did you do?”

Q sat up straight and levelled his gun at the man’s chest.

“I killed you.” He said calmly as his second bullet found his heart.

The second shot spun the man and, rather by luck than any judgement on Q’s part, it sent him barrelling over the safety rail behind him.  There was a distant splash as he hit the water below.  Q sat paralyzed for a moment, horrified by what he’d just done.  He’d killed before, of course he had, but never like this.  Never watching the life drain from his victim’s eyes.  He listened out for sounds that indicated that someone had heard the muffled pops of his gun’s silencer but there was nothing.  Good job too.  If someone had found him at that moment he wasn’t sure he’d have been capable of fighting back.

After a minute he managed to mentally shake himself.  He needed to get away from the open deck.  He reached behind the lounger and unfolded his chair before wriggling back into it.  He rolled forward to grab his would-be assassin’s gun before quickly heading off down the promenade towards Mrs Richardson’s apartment.

~00Q~

It had been a long while since James had been on active duty but he felt the persona of 007 slip over him again easily.  A part of him wanted to stay with Q, to keep his husband safe, but he knew realistically that taking the offensive was the quickest way to neutralise the threat, whatever it may be.

He walked down the promenade towards the front of the ship and carefully stock of his surroundings, working out the quickest way to reach the bridge.  Being ex-Navy, James had taken a great deal of interest in the layout of the ship when they first came on board and had spent many of his morning runs scoping her out.  Now he was glad that he had.  The sooner he secured the bridge, the sooner he could get back to Q.  He reached an external staircase and made a quick calculation.  He would reach his destination quicker this way but he would be exposed if there was someone lurking on the deck above.  Regretfully, he used the door at its base to slip inside.

That area of the deck that he was on was mainly residential and everything seemed quiet.  He drew out his gun and slowly made his way towards the foot of the internal stairs.  The hallways were carpeted which enabled him to move silently and swiftly, peering around every corner before heading forwards.  The first flight of stairs presented him with a problem.  They were split, curving back on themselves into two sweeping flights.  He walked up them backwards, craning above himself, gun at the ready in case the stairs were being watched.  He soon realised they weren’t so he was able to proceed unhindered.

The next deck had more public open spaces.  At the top of the wide corridor on the left hand side was the entrance to the food market.  At every port the manager stocked up with the freshest produce available.  As James crept in he was assailed by the smell of fresh oranges.  He thought longingly of their breakfast that morning.  Q had developed such a love of the fruit James wasn’t sure how he was going to keep him supplied with them once they returned to London.  He’d wondered if perhaps he could find an orangery owner willing to ship them overnight…

Dismissing Q from his thoughts with some regret, he reached the other end of the market.  He was about to pass through into the hallway behind it when he heard a noise.  Whirling, he trained his gun on two cowering employees who he recognised from his regular shopping trips there.

“Don’t shoot!  Don’t shoot!”

Lowering his gun he could see that one of the men was bleeding.

“What happened?”

“There were men with guns.  They took a pot-shot at Will through a window.  They missed but he was cut by the flying glass.”

“This isn’t a good place to stay.  Can you get into the store room?”

“We tried. It’s locked.”

“Follow me.”

James led them around the counter and tried the door.  It certainly was locked and he had nothing to pick it with.  Raising his gun he took aim and shot through the door where he estimated the mechanism to be.  Yanking the handle the latch shook loose and it opened.  He turned and reached in under the till, pulling out a first aid kit.

“Get in and brace the door. Don’t open it for anyone.” As the men filed in he added; “Did you see how many gunmen there were?”

The man called Will sat down painfully, his bleeding leg sticking out in front of him.

“Five.  Maybe six.  They were boarding the ship on the port side.  I think they must have some kind of boat tethered there.”

James nodded.  It made sense.  Even a stealth helicopter wouldn’t have been quiet enough to drop the men undetected.  A quietly running smaller ship under cover of darkness on the other hand…  He threw the first aid kit at him.

“Patch yourself up and stay quiet.”

Shutting the door on the men he went back to the hallway.  Raising his gun again he made his way to the smaller staircase that would take him to the bridge.  Five or six men, he mused.  If he was a gambling man he would bet that there were more than that.  Will had probably just stumbled across just one group of gunmen.  It was a big ship.  To have a hope of controlling the crew and residents they would need to have at least double that number.  James needed to proceed carefully.  He thought again about Q.  He hoped to God he was safe.

Reaching the corridor which led to the door to the stairs to the bridge he flattened himself to the wall before slowly peering around the corner.  The door to the stairs leading up to the bridge was standing ajar.  James shifted back and contemplated his next move.  He would be a fool to just try to creep up the stairs as there was likely to be an armed guard at the top of them.  He couldn’t take another route as the external stairs were too exposed.  Quickly moving he went down to the left, checking that he was alone.  He doubled back the other way.  It was clear there too.  Coming back he made his way towards the door.  Halfway down the corridor he began to talk loudly and indignantly;

“I don’t know what the bloody hell you think you’re doing!  Stop pointing that gun at me!  Unhand me!”

He crouched and trained his gun on the stairs.  As he’d hoped, after a moment he saw feet descending.  Without hesitating he fired off a single shot and sprinted towards them.  The gunman fell with a squawk, the bullet shattering an ankle.  He’d barely come to a halt before James was on him, a brutal two-handed twist snapping his neck.  James grabbed the corpse and yanked it up the stairs so he could pull the door shut behind him.  He quickly thumbed the latch, locking it.  Crawling up the stairs he froze as he heard a man’s voice.

“Hey.  What’s going on?  Where did you go?”

The man stuck his head around the corner and then dropped down dead with James’s bullet in his brain.  He paused for a second and then ran up the stairs and threw himself onto the floor, using the man’s body as cover.  At a glance he saw the whole room.  One crewman dead on the floor.  The captain and his first mate trussed up next to him.  A dark haired man stood over them.  His gun was raised, ready to shoot James.

They fired simultaneously and James grunted as he felt a round punch through his left bicep.  Another centimetre and it would have shattered the bone.  James’s was a kill-shot and the man fell to the ground.  Standing and holstering his weapon in the waistband on his trousers he then straightened his tuxedo, tugging on his cuffs to neaten them as he walked over to the incapacitated crew members.

“Good evening.  I’m not sure we’ve had the pleasure.  The name’s Bond.  James Bond.”

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

It took less than two minutes for Q to reach Mrs Richardson’s apartment.  As he’d hoped, the door was unlocked and he pulled himself in, gripping the doorframe to manoeuvre his wheels over the two-inch sill at the bottom of the doorway.  Once inside he closed the door and then realised with some regret that there wasn’t a key to lock it with.  Never mind.  It couldn’t be helped.  Wheeling into the small apartment he caught sight of the old lady’s golf clubs.  Helping himself to a five iron he used it to smash the bulb of the main light.  Now anyone coming into the room couldn’t suddenly blind him by switching it on.  He carefully pushed the broken glass in under the sofa and then wheeled his way past.  Setting his back to the wall he rested his hand on the Walther in his lap and stared at the door.

He’d reached up to activate his earpiece to tell James he’d reached his destination before remembering that it wasn’t working.  He activated it anyway and frowned as he listened to the static again.  Now he had a chance to concentrate on it he realised exactly what it was that he was hearing.  It wasn’t a smooth sound, there were hitches in the tone, indistinguishable to anyone who didn’t know what they were listening to.  It was the sound of deliberate interference.  The radio signals were being actively jammed.  He frowned.  The cabin he was in was over one hundred and fifty metres from the bridge and the heart of the ship’s communication centre so it wasn’t localised jamming, this was ship wide.   Q couldn’t imagine the pirates, or whoever they were, managing to drag on board the type of equipment needed to blackout a ship the size of The Galactica that far from its communication centre.  They must have been doing it from their own boat nearby.    He wondered if they’d managed to cut off the ship’s mobile phone connectivity and wifi too.  He would have laid money on the fact that they had and that they were completely cut off.

This was worse than he’d thought.  This smacked of organisation, not piracy, not chancers hoping to steal.  They were organised and they were looking for a middle-aged man in a wheelchair.  His fingers twitched over the smooth metal of his gun.  They never did find out who was behind their kidnapping.  He had a feeling he was about to though.  He sat quietly in the dark and prayed that James would be alright.   

 

~00Q~

 

The captain’s name was Philippe Gonzalez and his second in command was Veronica McCluskey.  James was quietly impressed with the woman when she leapt to her feet the moment she was untied and ran to the helm.

“We’re off course.  Drifting.  We need to readjust in the next half an hour or so or we’ll end up running aground off Figueira da Foz.”

“Do you have control of the engines?” James asked as he attacked the knots binding the captain’s wrists.

She checked the control panel quickly.

“No.  They’ve gone off-line.  They may have been totally shut down.”

“Can you restart them from here?”

“Possibly.  If not one of us will need to get down to the engine room.”

The captain went to stand up but lurched drunkenly before he could straighten his legs.  James caught him easily and lowered him back down to the floor.

“Easy captain.”  He tilted the man’s head so that he could examine his eyes.  His pupils seemed unevenly dilated.  “I think you’ve got a little concussion there.”

The man seemed to study James.

“Sorry, who are you exactly?”

James felt around the man’s skull carefully and found a sizable lump.  He flinched but there was no blood.

“My name is James Bond.  I’m an agent with MI6.” He explained.

“Lisbon.” Gonzalez said.  “Are you the one who came on board at Lisbon?”  He frowned as if confusing himself, “No.  I saw you on board before then didn’t I?”

James shook his head, not sure what the man was trying to say.

“I’ve been on board for months.  What do you mean?  Who came aboard at Lisbon?  Was it another agent?”

“There was an incident as we were about to set sail.”  McCluskey cut in.  “Just as the access ramps were about to be raised a man asked to be let on.   He spoke to Abrams who was covering embarkation that day.  Showed him some credentials from MI6 and said he was here to keep an eye on someone.”

“What was the man’s name?  What did he look like?”

She shrugged.

“Sorry.  Abrams didn’t say.”

“Did he mention who he was here to watch?”

“No he didn’t.”

“Where would Abrams be now?”

“That’s him.” McCluskey said sadly, pointing to the dead crewman on the floor.

“They killed him?  Why?”

“We don’t know.” She said, exchanging an upset look with the captain, “They just barged in here and shot him before any of us could say anything.  They said it was an example of what would happen to us if we didn’t comply.”

“Then they tied us up while they destroyed all the communication equipment.”  Gonzalez added.

James stood up and helped the man to his feet.  He seemed a little more stable now.  He watched as he tottered over to help McCluskey at the controls.  James picked up one of the pieces of rope that had restrained the captain and used it to tightly bind his injured arm as the crew worked.  His hand was red with blood now and his bicep was throbbing.  He pulled the rope taught, holding one end between his teeth as he tied it off. Pain flared but he ignored it.

He thought about what they’d said.  Something felt off.  Another MI6 agent on board?  Why in the hell’s name would M have sent another agent?  If something was up he could have left them a message on the phone they had hidden in their room.  They checked it twice a day religiously.  And then the one member of staff who could positively identify the agent was killed in cold blood?  The gunmen could have tied up three members of staff just as easily as two…  No.  Something felt wrong.  His thoughts were interrupted by Gonzalez.

“We have a problem.  The engines are completely unresponsive.  Our remote restart procedures aren’t working.  One of us needs to get down to the engine room to reset them manually.”

“I’ll go.”  McCluskey immediately said.  Gonzalez went to speak but she cut him off. “Phil, you’re barely able to stay on your feet.  It needs to be me.”

Gonzalez seemed to hesitate but then nodded.  James went over to the telephone handset on the bridge.  He lifted it and heard a flat tone.

“I think the on-board communications might be okay.  Good.  It means you two should be able to talk once I get McCluskey to the engines.”  He went to the dead gunman at the foot of the stairs and took his gun.  He then did the same for the two on the bridge.  “Do either of you know how to fire a gun?”  They both shook their heads so he quickly went over the basics with two of the handguns.  “When we leave here we’ll go down the stairs, the way I came in.  I’ll need you to lock the door behind us Captain.  Don’t open any of the doors for anyone.”  He turned to McCluskey.  “ Once you’re safely where you need to be, ring up to the captain.  Three rings.  Hang up, then ring again.”  He turned to Gonzalez.  “That way you’ll know it’s her.”  McCluskey and Gonzalez both nodded.  “Okay.  Let’s go.”

 

~00Q~

 

Q sat in the gloom of Mrs Richardson’s apartment and tried again to calculate how long it would be until he was discovered.  There were eight decks in all with an average of twenty-four apartments on each… he shook his head.  Without knowing how many there were searching for him it was a pointless exercise.  Just as he was beginning to wonder when James would be coming back he low heard voices outside on the promenade.  He held his breath as there was a rattle at the door.  Q raised his gun as it slowly opened and put a little pressure on the trigger.  He blinked as he thought he recognised the man entering.

“Quartermaster?”

Q lowered his gun a little and eased off the pressure.  It was Paul Dexter, 003.

“Dexter?”

“Am I glad to see you?!”  The agent said in an urgent whisper.  “The shit’s really hit the fan out there.  I need to get you to safety.”

“Who were you talking to?  Who are you here with?”

“That was 006.  He’s continuing a sweep of the ship.  We’ve been hunting the hijackers.  We going to use one of the lifeboats to get away.  I need to get you on it.  M’s orders.”

“M’s?” Q asked dubiously, wondering why M would have assumed the ship would be attacked.  “M sent you?”

“That’s right.  He ordered us here the day you told him where you were.  We’ve been on board for over a week watching you.  I thought James spotted me the day after I got here actually.  I’m surprised he never said anything to you.  Come on then.”  He went back to the door.

“I’m not going anywhere without James.”  Q said quietly.  He couldn’t understand it.  Why would M have sent agents the moment he discovered where they were when all three of them had taken such lengths to keep their location a secret?  Why would he suddenly have given their location away like that?  It made no sense.

“Where is James anyway?” Dexter asked.  “I can radio Trevelyan and ask him to meet up with him.”

Q felt a surge of uneasiness.  Whatever radios the agents were carrying, they wouldn’t work.  The jamming signal he’d heard on his own earbud was proof of that. If they had followed standard procedures they would have checked their radios before splitting up.  Something that Dexter said had happened just before he’d come into the apartment.

“How did you know I was in here?”  Q asked calmly, as he put pressure on his gun’s trigger once more.

Dexter had been about to walk out of the door but he turned around at Q’s words.

“I told you, we’ve been watching you.  You’ve spent a lot of time with the old dear that owns this place.  We thought it would be a logical place for you to hide.”

It all sounded plausible on the face of it.  Mrs Richardson was their friend, that was true, but why would they assume he’d think to come here?  They didn’t know she kept her door unlocked.  Unless…

He raised his gun and although the room was dark there was enough light for him to see the way Dexter looked at him, his face settling into a scowl.

“But it’s not.”  Q said quietly.  “It’s not logical at all.  James runs past here most mornings and we sometime meet up with her in the bar but tonight was the first night for weeks that we’d eaten with her.  There’s others on the ship that we’ve spent much more time with who have apartments on this deck but you wouldn’t know that would you?  Because you haven’t been here for a week.  My guess would be you came aboard at Lisbon to give yourself a day to locate exactly where we were and then you and your friends just rounded up and put pressure on the residents in the restaurant.  You what?  Threatened people into telling you who knew the young man in the wheelchair and then menaced an elderly lady into giving you her apartment number?  You’d probably already ransacked our apartment and realised we weren’t there, hadn’t you?  

“So how did you do it?  How did you find us?  Did you have M under surveillance?  Yes.  Of course you did.  And when we rang him last week, that was the first time we’d let slip where we were.  I just can't understand why you’ve attacked the whole ship like this unless you're on a schedule… Is that what it is? Do we need to be somewhere all of a sudden?”  Dexter went to raise his gun but Q was quicker.  “No.”

The agent lowered his hand again.

“I did wonder.” Q pondered.  “I mean, it had occurred to me.  You were very quick to kill him, weren’t you?  Collos.  A head shot?  Bit of overkill when all he was going to do was shove his cock in me.  It wasn’t like he had a knife at my throat or a gun to my head.  How unfortunate it was that you should kill the man who it turned out was the brains behind it all.  Or was it?”  Q tilted his head as a thought occurred to him.  “He knew you, didn’t he?  And you couldn’t risk him exposing you when you were the person controlling Dunn.”

“Silly bastard looked up and was about to say something.” Dexter said.  “Bob Carter from MI5 was standing right next to me and we were both mic'd up with Operations listening in.  I couldn’t afford to lose my position with MI6 so I made a split-second decision.  I’m too valuable and the pay’s too good.  It was a shame.  I liked Collos.”

“Well,” Q said dryly, “you _were_ too valuable.  Not so sure about that now.  I’m also not sure I think much of your employer, Mr Dexter.  I’ve got to say, he’s rather buggered it all up for you and for what?  The I.I.N. has been up and running for months now.  Even if he kills me he won’t be able take control of it.”

Dexter snorted out a laugh of derision.

“Oh, my dear Quartermaster.  Not everything is about you, you know.”  Q’s blood ran cold at the man’s words.  “He’s been able to access the I.I.N for several months now.  He only ever cared about making your prick of a husband suffer.  And he’s really going to suffer when he gets to watch you die.”

“But why?” Q asked.  “Who is your employer?”

Dexter grinned.

“Ernst Stavro Blofeld.”

While Q was still processing the name Dexter suddenly raised his gun again.  Q was quicker though and shot first.  His aim was a little off in the gloom and the bullet clipped Dexter’s shoulder, punching into him and spinning him.  He tripped over the sill of the doorway as he staggered and fell out of the door.  Q quickly wheeled himself over to him but by the time he’d negotiated the room’s furniture the man had gone, leaving a trail of blood which led towards the front of the ship.  Quickly making a decision, Q dragged himself back out of the room and sped off the other way.

 

~00Q~

 

James and McCluskey moved quickly back through the ship.  He led the way, impressed by her ability to take his instructions quickly and without question.  She hung back as he waited for him to check every intersection and followed obediently as soon as he motioned for her to follow.  Every time they descended another level he quietly asked her for the quickest route to the engines until they were almost at their destination.  Once they were within sight of the main door to the engine room he drew her into an alcove and spoke quietly.

“I have a silencer on my weapon, you don’t and while I want you to be able to protect yourself, if you fire you will draw attention to us.  Do you understand?”  She nodded.  “Stay here.  If someone comes up the corridor behind us, stay hidden for as long as you can.  Only shoot if your life depends on it.”  He looked at the closed door ahead of them. “I’ll go in alone and take care of any threat in there.  Don’t follow me.  I’ll come back and get you when it’s safe.”

She looked nervous.

“What if you don’t?  Come back, I mean?”

James grinned at her.

“I always come back.”

Leaving her, he crept the rest of the way down the corridor.  The watertight door to the engine room was set into a bulkhead and had a hand wheel set into it.  He reached out and slowly started to turn it, levelling his gun at waist height.  He knew that anyone looking at the door from the inside would see the wheel on that side moving and so braced himself for action.  Luck was on his side however and the wheel fully opened without incident.  Crouching down, preparing for a possible headshot from the other side, James slowly inched open the door.  He set his eye to the gap and saw two men talking, both side-on to him.  He raised his gun and slowed his breathing…

His first shot was perfect, punching a hole through the temple of the man on the right.  The other man jumped and turned just in time to take James’s next bullet in his throat.  There was a yell from further back in the room and instantly the metal door was raked with automatic gunfire.  James cursed and dropped down even further.  He scanned the room to see the shooter but from his limited angle he was obscured.  There was only one thing for it.  James stood up and barged his way into the room, shouldering the heavy door out of the way so he could cover the three metres between it and the large turbine closest to him.  There was another spray of bullets and James staggered as something struck the side of his head.  He ducked down but not before he had ascertained where the shooter was.

Taking a moment to compose himself he waited until there was a lull in the firing.  He closed his eyes and visualised replacing the magazine on the weapon.  Three… two… one… James stood up and instantly trained his gun on the spot he’d seen the man at almost the exact second that he stood up to fire again.  James squeezed off a single shot and the man fell down dead.  Not waiting another second, James immediately swept the room, looking for more assailants but there weren’t any.  Quickly returning to the doorway he called out to McCluskey who immediately ran to join him.

“I need to get moving.”  He told her.  “I have to get back to my husband.  The gunfire might attract more of them here.  Is there any way you can lock yourself in?”

“The rear door to the room acts like a fire escape.” She told him, running to a large tool chest that stood in the corner.  “It can only be opened from this side.”  She took out a large wrench.  “After you’ve gone I can close the main door and use this to wedge the hand wheel.  They’d need to spend an hour with an oxyacetylene torch to get to me after that.”

“Good.  Use the intercom to communicate with the captain.  I’ve got to go.  Thanks for your help and good luck.”

He turned to leave but he stopped when she reached up to touch his face.  There was a flare of pain as she touched his temple and her fingers came away bloody.

“Will you be okay?  I think he got you.”

“I’ll be fine, although my husband will probably kill me for not ducking quickly enough.  Sorry, I really have to go…”

He turned and left.  At the end of the corridor he glanced back and smiled when he realised she’d already closed the door.  Checking his path was clear he made his way up the stairs to the next deck.

 

~00Q~

 

Q quickly wheeled himself down the deserted promenade to the rear pleasure deck.  There was an open-air swimming pool and bar area there but as far as he could see there were no gunmen.  He thought it odd until he heard voices and he realised that they must be watching the area from the balcony above him.   Q still wasn’t sure where he was heading but he knew that he had to keep moving so without hesitation he followed the line of the upper balcony, keeping himself to the shadows.  He wondered if there was a way he could get himself onto another deck without drawing anyone’s attention.  It would be so much easier if he knew where James was.  As he reached the midpoint of the ship again he heard more voices and he slowed down, wondering where they were.  The deck at this point was more or less covered by the one above so he cautiously approached the side of the ship.

The voices were coming from below him and he soon saw why.  There was an embarkation point on the lowest deck and tethered to the side of the ship there was a yacht.  It was huge, well over thirty meters long by Q’s estimation, with a helipad equipped with a six-seater helicopter on the upper deck.  He was about to duck back when something unusual struck him about the yacht’s communications array.  All yachts tended to have a gaggle of transmitters and receivers on the highest point for radios, satellite link-up, television and the like but there seemed to be additional hardware on this one that was out of the ordinary.  It was what was jamming the radio, Q was sure of it.  He knew that if he could knock out the yacht’s equipment he’d be able to talk to James and, more importantly, The Galactica could send out a distress call.

He raised his Walther but soon realised his weapon, although quiet with its silencer, would be useless.  The communications array was too far below him and the slight swell of the ocean was moving the yacht against the roll of the ship making aiming even more difficult.  Q regretfully tucked his gun down the side of his leg and picked up the rifle he’d taken from his attacker earlier.  Thumbing the setting onto ‘auto’ he took aim.  The sound of the gun would undoubtedly bring gunmen running to him but it was worth the risk if it meant the residents and crew of The Galactica had a chance to get a distress call out and to be safe.

Slowing his breath he used the scope to select his target and squeezed the trigger.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

James crept back along the promenade towards Mrs Richardson’s apartment.  He’d felt uneasy when he left Q and that uneasiness had increased with every minute that he’d been away from him.  He’d wanted to stay with him, make sure he was safe, not run around the ship without him.  Now the bridge and engine room were relatively secure he wanted to concentrate on making sure his husband was somewhere well-hidden.  Somewhere James could defend him if necessary.

He frowned as he began to notice spatters on the polished deck he walked on.  By the bluish light of the moon they looked black but James instinctively knew that it was blood.  Gritting his teeth and trying not to panic he sped up.  His jaw clenched as he realised that the spatters trailed along the deck towards Mrs Richardson’s doorway.

 _“Tom?_ ” James whispered.

There was no answer.

Fighting rising anxiety James slipped into the apartment.  There was a smear of blood on the doorframe, too high to be from Q sitting in his wheelchair but James couldn’t help the momentary flash of panic.  Someone had been in the room with him…

“Oh please no…” He murmured as he realised that the apartment was empty.  “Oh nonono.  Baby boy...”

He was just turning around to leave again when there was a sudden burst of gunfire.  It sounded like it might be coming from the other side of the ship.   Almost immediately there was a crackle of static in his ear.

_“James? Come in James, are you there?”_

James felt a wave of relief wash over him.  He activated his earpiece.

“I’m here darling.  Where are you?”

 _“Starboard side, third deck.  I’ve tucked myself between the forward lifeboats_ .”  James immediately ran out of the room and back towards the door he’d used earlier.  It would be quicker for him to cut through the ship than run around it. _“James, you need to be careful.  Dexter’s on board and he’s with them.  I shot him.  Got him in the shoulder I think.”_

“He’s working with the people who’ve taken the ship?”

_“Yes.  He was Dunn’s handler.  James I don’t know how long their jamming signal will be interrupted.  The crew need to activate the ship’s distress beacon.”_

“No good.”  James replied, checking an intersection before hurrying on.  “Communications were smashed on the bridge.  We need to try to wipe out the attackers ourselves.”

 _“Fuck it.”_ Q cursed. _“Not to worry, I’ve got_ …”  There was a sound of more gunfire, which was oddly doubled as James heard it through his earpiece and through the door which was now just ahead of him.  Clamping down on a feeling of utter panic at the thought of Q being attacked he ran headlong through the door.  As luck would have it he found himself directly behind the man shooting at his husband.  James immediately raised his weapon to kill him when he suddenly slumped to the deck.  He looked up to see Q sitting up straight in his wheelchair, the barrel of his Walther still smoking.

 

~00Q~

 

Q grinned as James ran towards him and crouched down besides his wheelchair.  He faced him, scanning the deck in the opposite direction to Q.  He spared him a glance and frowned at the state he was in.  His left hand was streaked with gore and he could see that he had a rudimentary tourniquet on his arm.  In addition to that, the side of his face was bloodied.

“Get shot much?”  He asked dryly.

“Not as much as the baddies did.” James quipped back.  He raised his gun and fired off a shot.  Q heard the sound of something heavy falling down the stairs just behind him. Despite the situation they found themselves in, Q sniggered.

“ _Baddies?_ ” He asked. “What are you?  Twelve?”

“Inches, maybe.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Q muttered.  He saw movement in the shadows ahead of him and squeezed off a shot of his own.  A man fell out of them, dead.  “Dexter said the man behind this all was called Ernst Stravro Blofeld.  Ring any bells?”

A bullet ricocheted off the lifeboat behind them and they both flinched.  James calmly took another shot and dropped another attacker.

“No.  Should it?”

“Dexter seemed to think this was all very personal.  A vendetta against you.”

“Never heard of him.”  James replied, quickly changing the clip in his gun.  “Maybe I fucked his wife.”

“Tart.” Q commented.  “Two more incoming.  My side.”

James turned so his back was to Q so he could alternate between watching in both directions.

“We need to get out of here.  We’re too exposed.  If we can get rid of these guys we can…”

Just then there was a rattle as something thrown from a deck above landed beside them and the men up the deck from them started to fire.  James ducked down and cursed as they watched a gas grenade roll under the lifeboat next to them.  James threw himself onto the deck and tried to grab it but it suddenly detonated, enveloping them in a cloud of choking gas…

 

~00Q~

 

James came to lying face down on the smooth wooden deck of the yacht.  He blinked as he tried to orientate himself.  He wasn’t tied up but his limbs felt sluggish and heavy.  He could feel the rumble of engines idling through the wood he was lying on.  They weren’t moving yet, most likely still tethered to The Galactica but he guessed it was only a matter of time.  He tried to move and winced at the flares of pain in his arm and head.  As his faculties restored he became aware of the sound of gentle sobbing.  In a heartbeat his knew it was Q.

He opened his eyes and saw his husband crumpled on the floor.  It looked as if someone had thrown him there.  He whimpered when he saw James watching and reached out for him with a shaking hand.  James tried to get up to crawl to him but he was stopped by someone kneeling heavily on the back of his neck.  He struggled to breathe as the muzzle of a gun was pressed in behind his ear.

“I think not, 007.”

“Dexter.”  James managed to choke out.  “How’s the shoulder?”

Dexter growled and shoved the gun harder into soft area beneath James’s skull, making him wince.

“You piece of shit.” He spat.  “I’m going to enjoy feeding you to the sharks.”

“What is going on here?” A deep voice demanded.  Dexter immediately released most of the pressure on James and he used the opportunity to look up.  The man who’d spoken was huge, a great big bearded bear of a man.  He was smartly dressed but his suit obviously covered a mountain of muscle.  He was impeccably manicured and James noticed a glimmer of metal on his thumbnails as he gestured towards them.  “Were Mr Blofeld’s instructions not explicit enough?  These men are to be our guests.”  Dexter got up off James and he immediately crawled to Q.  He was trembling and cried out when James gently eased him up into his arms.  “Unfortunately Mr Blofeld tired of waiting for you to arrive and he has retired for the evening.  I am Hinx and he asked me to pass on his apologies for not staying up to greet you personally and to welcome you on board.” He continued smoothly, as if they were at an exclusive country club and James and Q weren’t lying on the floor, bedraggled messes. “He has also instructed me to inform you that he will meet you for breakfast in the main dining room at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”  James watched as the man looked around the deck. “Where is our guest’s wheelchair?”

One of the crew stepped forward.

“We left it on the ship.  We didn’t think…”

The big man stepped forward aggressively and James saw the way the other man took half a step back.

“No.  Evidently not.  Go and get it please.”

The man jumped to obey and dashed off.  James took a moment to turn to Q.  His hand was twisted up in James’s lapel as he gripped him.  Q was trembling as if he was feverish but when James smoothed his hair back off his forehead his temperature felt normal.  He tried to work out what was wrong with him.

“Are you okay?  What did they do?”

Q shook his head and shivered again as if unwilling to talk in front of the men.  The only thing James could think was that Q had been hurt somehow and that the shock was starting to set in.  Instead of pressing the point he cradled him and kissed his head.  When Q whimpered again James looked up and glared at Dexter.

“You die first.” He said quietly.  Dexter looked as if he was about to say something but he was interrupted by the other man returning with Q’s chair.  James slipped his hand in under Q’s knees.  “Hold on tight sweetheart.”

He stood up and Q cried out, scrabbling to grab the arms of his chair as he was set down in it.  James crouched down, making sure that Q was settled before he stood up and faced the man who called himself Hinx.

“As we are apparently to be guests on here I assume you have accommodation for us?”

“But of course.  Follow me please.”  Q was curled over himself motionless so James pushed his chair after the man.  They were led to a stateroom that was sumptuously decorated.  The man ushered them in.  “We will come to collect you in time for breakfast.  In the meantime you will forgive us if we lock your door and post a guard outside.”

“But of course.”  James replied dryly.  He watched as the man left and the door was shut and locked behind him, hearing the sound of the engines in the bowels of the yacht ramp up.  They were leaving The Galactica.  He immediately dropped to his knees.  Q had lowered his head so James tilted his chin up carefully.  “Tom, darling…”  Q looked up at him, blinking slowly.

“I’m cold.  Is there a shower?  Can we have a shower?”

James got up and looked through the door off the bedroom.  There was a bathroom with a large shower in there.  James quickly turned it on and laid a folded towel on the floor, taking care not to block the drain.  He went back into the bedroom and stripped off his own clothes before helping Q.  He moved slowly and painfully as James gently assisted him.  It was a slow process but once he was naked James lifted him carefully.  Q sobbed as James carried him through to the bathroom.  He paused to take his glasses off him before carefully setting them on the floor, placing Q on the towel under the cascade of water.  James tried to let go of him once he was settled but he clung onto him, burying his face in James’s neck.

“I’ve got you.  You’re alright.” James soothed.

Q tightened his grip and craned his neck to whisper into James’s ear under the cover of the falling water.

“It’s okay, I'm not hurt, but there’ll be cameras.  Microphones.”

James tucked his head down next to Q’s.

“Why the theatrics?”

“They dragged me on board without my wheelchair.  I figured if they thought I was completely immobile they wouldn’t want to carry me around so they’d go back for it.  That, and it couldn’t hurt to let them underestimate me.”

“Why is your chair so important?”  James murmured, running his hand down Q’s back.  Q looked up and kissed him gently before tucking himself into James’s embrace again.

“There’s a transmitter built into it...”  James kissed his shoulder and huffed out a quiet laugh at Q’s next words. “… and something that goes _boom_.”

 

~00Q~

 

Q was relieved that he’d finally been able to tell James that he was okay.  The plan had worked, he’d been reunited with his wheelchair but the look on James’s face when he’d thought that Q had been hurt was heart-breaking.  They sat in the shower together a while longer and then James wrapped Q in a towel before carrying him back through to the bedroom.  After putting him on the bed Q let James prop him up with all the cushions so that he could tend to his wounds using a small first aid kit that they’d found in the bathroom.  The graze on the side of his head was nasty but mercifully shallow.  Q was more worried about James’s arm.  The bullet had gone through but the entry and exit points were red and angry looking.  James sat stoically while Q stitched him but there wasn’t a lot else that he could do for him other than apply a couple of cotton pads and bandage it for him.

Once he had finished James laid him down and took away their towels before turning off the lights.  He stopped by the window for a few moments, looking up at the sky before returning and snuggling down beside him.

“How are you feeling now baby boy?” He asked quietly.

Q rested his head on James’s chest and let him cuddle him in close.

“A bit better.  My back’s just all so delicate now since the surgery…”

James kissed his forehead. Q hoped that James knew that what he had just said was for the benefit of anyone listening in.

“Try to relax and get some sleep.  Maybe the warmth from the shower will help to calm it down.”

“Maybe.”  Q tried to sound dubious.  He smoothed his hand down over James’s ribs and in under the covers.  Once his hand was hidden Q started to tap on his hip.

_dot dash dash dash…  dot dash… dash dash…  dot… dot dot dot_

James squeezed Q gently, obviously recognising his name in Morse code.  The fingers on Q’s ribs tapped back;

_dash dash dot dash_

The letter Q.  Q kissed James’s chest and tapped again.

‘ _where are they taking us’_

James shifted, apparently getting comfortable but Q guessed it was a shrug.  He tapped back.

 _‘not sure. tried to see the stars.  think we’re heading east._ ’

 _‘azores’_ Q suggested.

_‘possibly’_

They lay quietly for a while and Q began to think that James might have nodded off before he tapped on Q again.

_‘what did you mean by boom’_

Trying not to smile at James’s question, Q began to tap.

 

~00Q~

 

James dozed lightly throughout the night.  He wasn’t sure that Q would manage to sleep at all but he eventually caught a couple of hours just before dawn.  At twenty past seven James began to kiss him softly.  It had always been his favourite way to wake his husband, watching the way his forehead would wrinkle into a frown as he was disturbed only for it to smooth out as he opened his eyes and smiled as he realised he was he was safe in James’s arms.

This morning though it was followed by a flicker of fear as he realised where he was and the danger they were in.  James rolled him onto his back and kissed him again, slipping his tongue into his mouth.  Q moaned quietly as he was kissed.  When they broke apart he looked so sad.  James reached up and ran his fingertips over the frown which had reappeared.

“We need to get up darling.  They’ll be coming for us soon.”

Q nodded, turning his head to press a light kiss onto the palm of James’s hand.

“Whatever happens today…  I want you to know that I love you and I that have no regrets.  None at all.  Ever since that day in the National Gallery…”

James smiled at him and tried not to show him just how worried he was.  They were utterly at the mercy of their captors.  They could kill them both here out at sea and their bodies might never be found…  He shook his head slightly, trying to fend off the negative thoughts.  Q was a genius.  He’d managed to activate the tracker in his wheelchair.  It was only a matter of time until they were intercepted by someone sent by MI6…  They just had to hang on and be ready to strike back when the time came.  He leaned down and kissed Q again.

“I love you too.”

James got up first and pulled Q’s wheelchair over to the bed before lifting him to put him into it.  Q moaned as he was lifted but James was no longer concerned.  He knew it was all an act now designed to keep Q in his wheelchair.  His wasn’t however, when he grunted putting Q back down.  He went to stand but Q caught his wrist.

“What’s the matter?”

James shook his head.

“It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit.”  Q snapped back.  He pulled James’s arm straight and he winced as the bicep tried to extend.  Q reached up and ran his finger over James’s shoulder. “You have a red line.   Your wound is infected and it’s spreading.”

James pulled his hand back and walked around to the back of Q to push him into the bathroom.

“It’s nothing.  I’ll be fine.”

“James…”

“Don’t Tom.  Not now.  There’s not a lot I can do about it anyway.”

Q scowled at him but didn’t say anything else as James helped him onto the toilet.  James went to the sink and found a couple of toothbrushes.  He cleaned his teeth and tried to avoid looking at his arm.  Q was right.  There was a thick red infection line running up his arm to his shoulder.  He took stock of himself.  His arm felt swollen and sluggish and he generally felt too warm but he didn’t feel ill although that was probably only a matter of time.  If he didn’t get access to antibiotics in the next twenty four hours though he was going to be in trouble.  He finished what he was doing and then helped Q back into his chair.  He went back into the bedroom while Q freshened up.

They’d dumped their suits on the floor the night before and he was just going to pick them up when there was a knock at the door.  He went to it and found it unlocked when he turned the handle.  There was a burly deckhand waiting with two suit carriers in his hand.

“Courtesy of Mr Blofeld.”  He grunted.

James took them and slammed the door in the man’s face.  He laid them on the bed and found that they contained two casual outfits, both stylish in their simplicity.  A pair of tan slacks with a cream shirt in Q’s size and a navy pair with a white shirt for James.  He quickly dressed and was about to check on Q when he heard him call.

“James?  Can you come and help me please?”  He went back into the bathroom and found Q laughing at himself.  “I’m an idiot.  I’ve got the towel caught in my wheel.  Can you free it for me please darling?”

“What would you do without me?”  James smiled as he crouched down beside him.  Q put his hand on his shoulder and James glanced at him, quickly winking.  During their covert conversation the night before Q had mentioned that he’d seen a tiny camera aperture in the bathroom, set high up in the wall, and James realised that at this angle he had his back to it.  He saw immediately that the towel wasn’t actually caught at all but the angle Q was parked at allowed James access to a small compartment that he’d told him about the night before.  It was hidden under Q’s seat and James deftly flicked it open and extracted a rather fine-looking Omega watch which he immediately slipped on and tucked under his cuff.  Moving the chair he pulled out the towel and then gave Q a sweet kiss. “You’re such a berk.  It’s a good job I adore you.”

Q spied him critically as he stood up again.

“Where did you get the clothes?

“Courtesy of our host.  There’s an outfit for you too.”

“How thrilling.” Q deadpanned.

James couldn’t help but chuckle as he pushed Q back through to the bedroom.  He handed Q the shirt to put on while he fed his legs into the trousers.  Once Q was ready he made him loop his arms around James’s neck while he grabbed the waistband of the trousers.  With a practised move that they’d done thousands of times before James stood up taking Q with him.  Q moaned theatrically as James quickly pulled up his trousers and fastened them before setting him back down gently.  He hunted out his socks and shoes and then knelt in front of him to put them onto his feet before doing the same for himself.  Once they were ready James sat on the side of the bed.  He smiled when Q slipped his hand into his.

“Are you ready for this?”

Q shrugged.

“Probably not but when has that ever stopped us?”

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

On the stroke of eight o’clock there was a knock at the door and it immediately opened.  Hinx strode in.

“Good morning gentlemen.  If you would be so kind as to follow me.”

James got up and pushed Q out of the room and down the corridor.  At the end was a large dining room, elegantly panelled in cedar and at the head of the dining table…

“It can’t be.”

James was stunned.  He was looking at a dead man.  Franz Oberhauser.  The son of the man who’d taken him in when his own parents were killed.  But Franz died in an accident with his father...  James’s head swam momentarily and he wasn’t sure if it was from the strange effect of seeing a man that he knew to be dead or the infection in his blood.  His fingers tightened on the back of Q’s chair as he tried to make sense of it all.  Franz stood up and grinned.

“Welcome, James. It's been a long time... Finally, here we are. What took you so long?”

Q turned in his chair to look up at James. 

“You know each other?”

“We used to.  This is Franz Oberhauser.  His father was my father’s best friend.  When my parents died he took me in.  Became my guardian.”

The man shook his head and tutted.

“Franz Oberhauser died twenty years ago, James, in an avalanche alongside his father. The man you're talking to now, the man inside your head, is Ernst Stavro Blofeld.”

‘Blofeld’ motioned for James to sit as he retook his place at the table.  He shook out one of the thick linen napkins and settled it into his lap.  James pushed Q forward to where he saw a place setting with no chair.  He sat next to him.  There was a platter of assorted cold meats, cheeses and breads which Blofeld began to help himself to.  A steward served them all with hot drinks.  Tea for Q, coffee for James.  Neither of them made a move to take any food.  After a moment Blofeld noticed.

“You both really should eat.  You have a long day ahead of you.  Well, James does.”

Q glanced at James again.  His face was blank and if he was feeling nervous or threatened the stubborn sod wasn’t showing it as he reached out and took a croissant.  James did the same.  As they started to slowly eat, Blofeld began to talk.

“You came across me so many times James and yet you never saw me. Le Chiffre, Greene, Silva...”

James gave out a little snort of derision.

“All dead.”

“That's right. A nice pattern developed. You interfered in my world, I destroyed yours. Or did you think it was coincidence that all the women in your life ended up dead?”  James chewed on his food slowly as Blofeld spoke, the fingers on his left hand tightening into a fist.  He put down the knife he’d used to butter his croissant and rested his hands in his lap, trying to relax them.  “I was going to do the same with your darling husband but the kidnapping didn’t quite pan out the way I’d planned it.  A shame really.  I really had hoped that it might destroy you.”

“Killing Q?”

“Killing Q in front of you.  I wanted you to watch as he was slowly tortured to death.  I’ll admit I was to blame for my failure.  I hadn’t anticipated that you would escape quite so quickly or that your genius cripple would find a way to alert MI6 to his whereabouts…”

Q had stopped picking at his breakfast and was staring at Blofeld now, a scowl on his face.

“… you see it wasn’t so much the fact that I wanted him to die,” Blofeld continued, apparently oblivious, “so much as I wanted to see the look on your face as you watched him die.  I wanted to see what that would do to you.  How it would destroy you.  Still, now I have another chance.  After you have eaten you will be set adrift with the corpse of your beloved Q.  I’m sure Mr Hinx will be only too pleased to crush the life out of him for me while you watch.   I’d imagine it will be some time until you are discovered and then I am afraid that might not be until after you have died yourself.  Imagine that?  To perish knowing you failed him and quite quickly I’d imagine.  How _ is _ your arm feeling anyway?”

“Why?  Why do all this?”  James asked, ignoring Blofeld’s mocking question.

“Because you did the same to me.  You took someone that I loved from me.”

James didn’t quite understand what he meant and it must have shown on his face as Blofeld turned to Q.

“Do you know what happens when a cuckoo hatches inside another bird's nest?”

 “Yes. It forces the other eggs out.” Q replied.

 “Yes. Well, this cuckoo made me realize my father's life had to end. In a way he's responsible for the path I took...” He smiled at James. “So thank you, cuckoo!”

Q snorted with derisive laughter, reaching for the sugar.  He dumped three spoonfuls of it into his dainty teacup and stirred it vigorously.

“Well that’s all just a bit fucking lame.”

Blofeld looked at Q with something akin to astonishment and James fought the sudden urge to laugh.

“I’m sorry?”  Blofeld said.

Q took a sip of his tea.

“Look at all of this.” He said, gesturing with his teacup.  “This yacht, worth millions.  You’ve got men armed with the latest in assault weaponry.  You brag about having controlled three of the more formidable threats that MI6 has faced over the past ten years and for what?  Revenge?  That has got to be one of the most pathetic things I’ve ever heard.  Have you tried getting a life?”  Blofeld tried to speak but Q cut him off. “And the restaurant.  What a ham-fisted attempt that was.  Blowing up a whole building to get to me.  So what was the plan?  A well-timed phone call designed to lure James out moments before the blast?     Well that wouldn’t have worked even if we had been there.  Don’t you know we never leave our phones turned on when we go out on dates?  That the first thing we do when we check into a restaurant is tip the maître d' handsomely to tell anyone ringing that we aren’t there?  The only way you could have got James to go outside without me would have been to have dragged him out by his balls!” He chuckled. “And you didn’t even notice that we weren’t there!” He drained his teacup.  “I say, this tea’s pretty good.  Is there any more?”

Blofeld seemed shocked by Q’s words but quickly recovered himself.

“But of course.  Simon?”

The steward took the teapot off the side table and quickly refilled Q’s cup. Blofeld used the moment to recompose himself.

“You are right about the restaurant attack.  It was a poor show.  Not one of Dexter’s finest attempts but no matter.  He redeemed himself by locating you and what luck that you were within just a few of days of this very vessel!  I will be sure to devise a straightforward death for you very soon Thomas and this time I will ensure that both James and myself have front row seats.”

Before James could react the repeat of Blofeld’s threats there was a knock at the door and Dexter came in looking harried.

“Sir…”

“Didn’t I tell you I was not to be disturbed?”

“Yes Sir, sorry but there’s a Royal Navy destroyer bearing down on our position and…”

Blofeld immediately looked to Q.

“It seems that your quartermaster is cleverer than I gave him credit for James.”

James saw Dexter go for his gun so he leapt into action.  Shouting at Q he threw the watch that he’d been fiddling with under cover of the table at Blofeld.  He flipped the table, turning it on its side.  Throwing himself, he flung his arm around Q and dragged him out of his chair, cradling the back of his head with his arm as they hit the floor.  There was the sound of two gunshots and then an ear-splitting explosion.  After a moment of stunned silence James got back up cautiously.  He swore when he saw that although Dexter and the steward were now lying dead there was no sign of Blofeld and the door to the room stood ajar.  He quickly turned back to Q.

“He’s gone.  Are you okay?”

Q sat up.

“Go after him James.  Stop him.  I’ll be fine.”

As he spoke Q set his chair back onto its wheels and started to drag himself up into it.  James ran to the door, pausing only to pluck Dexter’s gun out of his lifeless fingers.  Racing up the stairs he realised that he could hear the sound of the helicopter’s engine cycling up and he upped his pace.  At the top of the staircase there was a door which led to the external metal stairs up to the helipad.  He got to the top of them just in time to see Blofeld starting to climb into the waiting chopper.  Bond raised his weapon and squeezed off a shot.  It ricocheted off the aircraft's door and Blofeld froze, raising his hands and turning slowly.  His face was bloody and it looked as though the explosion had destroyed one of his eyes.

“TELL HIM TO TURN IT OFF!!”  James bellowed, hoping he could be heard over the sound of the engine. 

Instead of complying Blofeld appeared to laugh as he slowly walked towards James.  Once he was close enough he shouted back.

“Tick tock James.  Quickly now, you have a decision to make.”  He jerked his head and James couldn’t help but look to see what he meant.  A wave of anger swamped him as he saw Hinx on the other side of the deck.  He had Q by the throat and James could see the way that his husband’s face was purpling.  He was gripping the big man’s arms, desperately holding himself up as he fought to breath.  “If you stop me he will die.  If you injure me further he will die.  What’s it to be James?  Am I worth his life?”  Blofeld calmly turned and walked back to the helicopter.  James raised his gun to take aim and then swore.  Abruptly changing his target he bore down on Hinx.

“LET HIM GO!”  James commanded over the sound of the helicopter as the engine cycled up and it began to take off.  Hinx seemed to laugh… and then suddenly dragged Q over the side of the yacht, dropping him into the ocean.  “NOOOO!” James squeezed off two shots but Hinx ducked and then grabbed the life preserver that was next to him.  He threw it like a Frisbee and it struck James hard, knocking the gun out of his hand.  It skittered across the deck and down the stairs that he’d just come up.  Disregarding it, James launched himself straight onto the man who now stood between him and the side of the ship.

It was like running into a wall made of solid muscle and both men grunted as they hit the deck.  James pulled back and punched the man viciously twice.  He may as well have been punching concrete.  Hinx seemed to shake it off and then he grabbed James’s head.  The flash of silver James had seen on the man’s hands the night before suddenly made sense as he tried to gouge out James’s eyes with his razor sharp nails. James wriggled and brought his knee up with all his might, catching the man squarely in the balls. He grunted and James managed to pull away enough to punch him in the throat.

When James looked back on the fight he wondered if he’d ever have managed to overpower the man under normal circumstances.  They weren’t normal circumstances though, Q’s life was at stake and that gave James the edge.  James twisted violently and managed to get behind the man as he gasped, wrapping his arm around the man’s neck and flexing his muscles.  Hinx tried to brace himself against the attack but James’s adrenalin was pumping.  As the choke hold took effect James counted to twenty slowly.  When he reached it Hinx had stopped moving and James released him.  It would only be a matter of seconds before the man started to regain consciousness but James didn’t have any time to wait.

James crawled away and used the guardrail at the edge of the deck to drag himself back up onto his feet.  He was shaking like a leaf, suddenly exhausted, and his injured arm was now throbbing with pain.  He ignored it all.  He could see that the ship approaching them had sent out a couple of Ribs in advance and the Navy personnel in them could deal with Hinx.  Not giving his exhaustion another moment’s thought James climbed over the side of the yacht and leapt, diving smoothly into the water below.

 

~00Q~

 

Q spun as he fell, hitting the water on his back.

It was like slamming onto the ground and he gasped, winded as he went underwater and instantly lost his glasses.  Saltwater flooded into his lungs and he fought to drag himself back to the surface, swimming powerfully with his arms.  Everything hurt as he clawed his way back up.  There was a moment of terror when he thought he couldn’t make it before he finally broke the surface. 

Q managed to cough out the water painfully but then the bow wave from the yacht swamped him and he went under again.  He bobbed back up and tried to reach for the vessel but it was already too far away and moving further away from him with every second.  He swore inwardly as he realised the predicament he was in.  The large ocean waves were making it difficult for him to float on the surface and he couldn’t tread water.  His only option was to swim but it tired him quickly as it put so much strain on his arms.  He tried to ignore the panic that was gnawing at him and started to crawl doggedly after the yacht.  Within a few feet he was beginning to struggle but he couldn’t give up.  If he stopped, he drowned, it was as simple as that.  He wondered how James was.  He hoped he would be alright.  Another wave swamped him, pushing him off course but he corrected himself and carried on.

James had been obsessed with making Q exercise once he realised how much it had helped his recovery after his initial bout of surgeries and Q didn’t doubt it had improved his stamina but even so it began to fade at an alarming rate.  Q gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the burn in his shoulders.  He loved James.  He could do this.  It would break James’s heart if he died.  He could do this.  He wanted to see his face again.  He could do this. 

Another wave hit him and he went under again.  He was taken unawares and breathed in more seawater before he managed to clear the surface again.  He coughed and then sobbed. 

_ No, please _ , he begged silently,  _ don’t let it end like this. _

He tried to strike out again, gasping as his sluggish, burning muscles refused to respond.  His vision started to fade as he faltered.  Perhaps he could float?  Find a way to keep himself alive.  He was so cold though.  Despite the warmth of the sun the water was icy and he started to shiver.  Just a bit further.  He needed to get just a little bit further.

Just as he thought there was no way he could go on he caught sight of something in the water ahead of him.  His heart leapt as he realised it was James only for a crushing panic to set in as he realised he was motionless, floating face-down.  

With a final push, Q struck out again, crawling desperately towards James.  It felt like hours but realistically it was probably only half a minute before he reached him.  Q snagged his sleeve at first, tugging desperately as he tried to flip James over onto his back.

“Come on!   _ Come on!! _ ” Q sobbed as he tugged again.  Changing his grip he finally managed to get James onto his back.  Q clung to him desperately, both of them ducking under the water.  Q thrashed with his free hand, trying to keep them afloat.  “James!”  He pleaded, “Please wake up darling.”  He was swamped by another wave and he coughed violently as he swallowed another mouthful of saltwater.  He clung onto James, realising he just wasn’t able to keep them afloat any longer but refusing to let go of the man he loved...

He thought he was imagining things when he heard a shout and the sound of an engine approaching.  Before he could process what he was hearing two pairs of strong hands hooked in under his armpits and he was dragged backwards into a boat.  He shivered as he was wrapped in several blankets and his arms and legs were vigorously rubbed.

“Sir.  Quartermaster, am I glad we spotted you!  Are you alright?”

Q squinted up at the man who spoke.  He was dressed in a Royal Navy uniform.  He tried to answer but he started to cough uncontrollably, vomiting up an alarming amount of seawater.  Hands rubbed his back and he was handed a bottle of water which he drank down greedily, washing the taste of salt out of his mouth.  Once he’d recovered enough he croaked out;

“Where’s James?  You need to help James.”

“We’ve got him Sir.”

Turning, Q saw that James was now lying in the bottom of the boat, a crewman checking him over.  With a sinking heart Q watched as the man started to perform CPR on him...

 

~00Q~

 

James awoke in a small cabin.  The hard mattress beneath him immediately telling him he was on the Royal Navy ship.  He’d spent enough time on them to recognise them anywhere.  Curled up in his arms, his head resting on his chest was his husband.  He looked exhausted, dark circles bruising his eyes, but to James he was utterly beautiful.  He kissed his forehead and Q immediately woke up, looking up at James with the sunniest of smiles.  He craned his neck so James could kiss his lips.

“Hello darling.”

James scanned the room.  It looked like they were in someone’s private quarters. One of the officer’s, most likely.

“Where are we?”

“We’re on the HMS Dauntless.  It’s a destroyer, currently deployed as part of an anti-piracy mission.  Tanner directed them to my tracker signal.  They’re taking us back to Porto so we can meet the car that will take us to our private plane at Francisco Sá Carneiro Airport.  M’s organised it all for us.”

“What, no long cruise home?” James joked.

“We tried that once.  Got shot at, remember?  I thought it might be better for us to just get back to London ASAP this time.  And besides darling, you need to get this sorted out.”  He reached up and gently ran his fingers over the white bandage that encased his left bicep.  “And before you try to tell me that it’s fine,” he continued quickly when he saw James was about to speak, “It’s not fine.”  He looked upset.  “You were unconscious when I found you in the water.  I… I couldn't keep us afloat.  If they had got to us a few minutes later... I had to watch them resuscitate you so don’t you dare try to tell me that it’s fine!” He poked James’s chest viciously, “You’re going to sodding well go to Medical when we get back and you’re going to let Conroy make you better and you’re going to let me take care of you because,”  His voice caught and he lowered his head for a moment to compose himself, “Because I love you and I almost lost you.” 

James smiled and pressed his finger under Q’s chin, tilting his head up until he could kiss him.  He whispered ‘ _ yes dear’ _ as he pushed up onto his elbow and kissed him again, running his hand down under the bedcovers, smoothing down over the standard issue white t-shirt he was dressed in.  Q huffed in annoyance at first but then gasped as James lightly gripped him through his undershorts.

“God, you’re a fucking menace.” Q laughed, suddenly breathless. “You were almost dead an hour ago!”

“But I’m all better now…”  James protested.  “And I can’t help it anyway.” He growled, beginning to stroke him.  “The last thing I remember is diving into the ocean and then I wake up next to a beautiful angel.  If this is heaven then I’m determined to take full advantage of it…”

“Like you’d ever end up in heaven,” Q teased, “I’m only in here with you because strictly speaking we’re not… here, officially I mean… the captain gave us his quarters to keep us hidden from the majority of the crew and… oh God.”  He shuddered as James slipped his hand into his pants and down between his legs to brush a finger over his arsehole.  “I’m not sure we should repay his generosity by shagging in his bunk…”

“Then you obviously have no idea what us sailors get up to on long deployments.”  James quipped.  He knelt up and drew Q’s underwear down off him before pulling his own down to his knees.

Q’s cheeks pinked up as James laid over him, pressing their groins together.

“We can’t do it here!” He laughed, obviously embarrassed, “What if someone comes in?” James reached down and tugged the sheet up over his hips.

“Better?”

“Oh yes, miles.  They’ll never guess what we’re up to now…” Q snorted sarcastically but he smiled when James gently parted his legs and settled back down between them.

“Then stop complaining.”  James rested on his elbows either side of Q’s head and kissed him again.  His arm did hurt, he had to admit, and his head was still  swimming but he ignored it, intent as he was on his husband.  After a moment he pulled back to spit on his fingers and then reached down between them to run them over Q’s arsehole once more.  When he slipped one inside Q gasped and James caught his exhale with more kisses.  “Anyway.  This is definitely all your fault.”

“It is?”  Q asked, his eyes half-closed with desire.

“Mmmm.”  James agreed, slipping in a second finger, “You hid all that kit in your chair.  You know how much your brain turns me on.  I did warn you that you’d be getting a fucking…”

“My brain huh?” Q smiled.  “Just my brain?”

“Possibly your smile too,” James admitted, withdrawing his fingers the spit on them again.  He smeared it over the head of his cock.  “Your face, your body, your hair, the way you tilt your head when you laugh, the little noise you make when I do this…”  James positioned the head of his cock at Q’s arsehole and pushed in.  Right on cue Q gasped again and clutched at James’s hips, trying to pull him in further.  “That’s the one.”  He muttered as he started to rock his hips.  He kept his movements slow, allowing Q’s body time to accommodate him.  Q arched his neck and James spotted the bruises from Hinx’s hands which now mottled his throat.  James ducked his head and kissed them gently, eliciting a soft sigh from Q.

“I love you darling.” He whispered, gazing up at him.

James didn’t answer him.  The pleasure of making love to Q after the terrible events of the past twenty-four hours momentarily overwhelmed him.  Q seemed to notice and he brought his hands up to James’s head, guiding him until he could kiss him again.  He then watched him, maintaining eye-contact as James worked his way toward his orgasm.  Almost embarrassingly fast James came, tears prickling his eyes as he lost control.  He sobbed and slumped down onto Q, craving the intimacy of feeling his arms around him.  He’d come so close to losing him.  Losing everything.

“I won't let him take you away from me.” James whispered, struggling to keep his voice from breaking. “He can't keep doing this to us. It has to stop.  I’m going to stop him.”

Q guided James's head again so he could kiss him softly once more. He waited until James had managed to compose himself and could look him in the eye before he spoke, quietly and full of determination.

“He won't. He won't get another chance.   _ We're _ going to see to that.”

 

~00Q~

 

Q wheeled himself out of the lift and into M’s outer office.  Moneypenny sat at her desk typing but she stopped the moment she saw him.

“Hello stranger.  How’s tricks?”

Q grinned. 

“Tricks are very good.” He replied.  “It’s nice to be back.”

“Really?”  She asked, wrinkling her nose and resting her chin on her hand.  “Did you get bored of luxuriously cruising around the world with your dashing hubby?”

“It was okay at first but it just wasn’t the same after all the shooting.” He quipped.

She laughed. 

“Well I’m glad you're back.  I was beginning to worry that you’d miss our big day.”  She waggled her fingers at him and he was amazed to notice a small diamond ring sparkle.

“You’re getting married!”  He exclaimed.  “Um, it is to Bill isn’t it?”  He joked.

She nodded.

“It is indeed and it’s quite soon.  We’ve had to bring the date forward so I can still fit into my dress…”

It took a moment but suddenly he realised what she meant.

“You’re pregnant?  Oh Eve, congratulations! It is Bill's isn't it?” He joked again.

“Yes it is.  Cheeky!.” She grinned. “Billy’s thrilled.  And so am I actually!”

“Well whatever you do, don’t ask us to be Godparents.”  He said.  She looked quizzical. “I’d just teach it to blow stuff up but James is likely to turn up at the hospital armed to the teeth and tail your babe from then on.  He’d take any protection duties way too seriously.”

“It might be worth the risk.” She mused.

Just then the door to the inner office opened and M emerged.

“Q. There you are.  If you would?”

Q said goodbye to Eve and wheeled himself into the office.  James was already there and he smiled at him as he parked himself next to where he was sitting.

“We’ve been discussing the recent attempts on your lives.” M began as he rounded his desk to sit down.

“Yes Sir, as James and I have privately.  I know what you’re about to suggest and I agree.”

“You realise that this will put Bond directly in the firing line, so to speak.”

Q reached out and James took his hand without a word.

“I do but reinstating him to Double O status is the best chance we have of tracking down Oberhauser or Blofeld or whatever he wants to call himself.  I don’t believe for one minute that he was acting alone.  He might have money but he needs resources, people.  It’s my opinion that he is part of or might even head some kind of network, an organisation that has so far managed to remain under our radar.  It’s likely that we will not cease to be targets until this organisation and its head are eliminated.

“It’s agreed then.”  M said.  He turned at James.  “Welcome back, 007.”

James grinned.

“I’ve never been away Sir.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for now but thank you so much for reading! The support I've had for these fics is phenomenal and I can't thank you all enough. I don't imagine for one minute that this is the last you've seen of this version of James and Q and I promise to try not to leave it so long next time...

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if you'd like to join me, I'm still doing my thing over at iambid.tumblr.com. Flailing over cute kitties, hot actors and men who, in all likelihood, are displaying a bit more flesh than their mother's would approve of.


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